


The Unmistakeable Sweetness of Butterscotch

by taiyakisoba



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Sex, MILFs, Mommy Issues, Mother Complex, Mother-Son Relationship, Older Woman/Younger Man, Post-True Pacifist Route (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-12 03:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5650963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taiyakisoba/pseuds/taiyakisoba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A grown-up Frisk returns to the home he shared with Toriel to discover that all the confused emotions he felt for her have only grown stronger while they've been apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after the events of the True Pacifist Route, so please be aware it's absolutely brimming with spoilers. Hope you enjoy it!

It was the smell of butterscotch that finally filled you with the determination to go back to her. 

The skyscrapers of the city have made you feel hemmed in far more than the caverns of the Underground ever did, but living among your own kind has proven a great help in your position as ambassador for the monsters. 

It's odd, though. Before the fateful day you fell into the Underground you'd always looked for any excuse to stay as far away from your fellow humans as you could. It was the reason you climbed Mt. Ebott, after all. And then you found yourself running back to the place you'd always hated.

But after the argument you really had nowhere else to go.

You were always running away from something. You ran away from her almost as soon as you met her. She'd wanted to keep you with her, to educate you and care for you. She had the whole thing worked out.

She'd even prepared a syllabus.

You had to leave, though. You wanted to go home. That same home you were running away from, that same home that held nothing for you. So, in effect, you ended up running away from home a second time: Toriel's home. A place all-set-up for the raising of a child.

Her home had been filled with the smell of butterscotch. Cinnamon, too, that spicy-sweet scent. It was her scent. When you woke up to find yourself in a strange room, in a strange bed, the smell had calmed you. Lying on the rug beside the bed was a slice of pie.

Butterscotch and cinnamon flavour. She'd baked it for you. 

“Which flavour do you prefer? Cinnamon or butterscotch?”

You'd answered butterscotch. There had been silence on the other end of the phone.

“Oh. Butterscotch? But you wouldn't turn your nose up at cinnamon if you found it on your plate, would you?”

You said you wouldn't. Flustered, in the way only Toriel could be flustered, she'd said goodbye only to call you again seconds later. 

“You don't have any allergies, do you? I forgot to ask.”

The smell of butterscotch had filled the house when you'd finally arrived. The little house, her home in the ruins. It was still there, you knew. Empty, now, though. You'd gone back to look at it. 

No, you'd gone back to see if he was still there. He had been, once, lying among the golden flowers he'd loved. The flowers still bloomed, glittering like liquid metal, as though they'd bled up through the earth. He was gone, though. You hadn't seen any sign of his other form, either. Maybe he hadn't returned to that strange purgatory. Maybe he'd gone somewhere else. 

Asriel.

“My child.”

A child. A child was all Toriel had ever wanted. She loved children, that much was obvious. Was that why she'd wanted to become a teacher so bad? To be surrounded by children? 

Her own two children had been so cruelly taken away from her. A human had been responsible. And yet, when you'd fallen down into the Underground, she'd rescued you, protected you. 

She'd had it all planned out.

Her face when you left. Sad, but understanding. That first time, when she'd thought you were going off to die. That second time, after the argument, when you'd said all those things you regretted. 

Maybe it would have been better if you'd never gone to stay with her. After you defeated Asriel and led the monsters to the surface, you and her had stared out across the yellow-red landscape. The sunset. It'd been so long since any monster had seen the sun. The others had gone, Asgore too, finally.

“What will you do now?”

Her face, when you asked if you could stay with her. That open, cheerful face. Monstrous, and yet beautiful. A mother's face. Not human, but beautiful and kind. She'd been surprised by your decision, but pleased, too.

“I'll do my best to care for you, for as long as you need.”

At first things had worked out. You were busy with helping the monsters integrate into human society, although really it was the other way round. The monsters threw themselves into life on the surface with enthusiasm – it was the humans who needed help to understand them.

And Toriel…. She opened her school, become the teacher she'd always wanted to be. 

You'd spent long evenings together, talking or not talking, just enjoying each other's silent company. 

But then Asgore… well, it wasn't really his fault. His new job as the grounds keeper of the school kept him close by. It was a job that seemed to suit him far better than being king. He was always dropping round, leaving his laundry for Toriel to do, inviting himself over for tea.

He was a nice guy, despite everything. 

So why did you hate him so much? Hadn't Asriel asked you to look after the two of them? 

“It's best if they forget about me. They'll all be happier, that way. Besides, someone needs to take care of the flowers.”

Another promise you'd broken. 

Then that afternoon came. You returned home to find Toriel and Asgore sitting at the kitchen table, laughing. She reached over, touched the back of his hand. There had been such happiness in her wide violet eyes. 

The sight struck you with panic.

Stupid. You were such a stupid, jealous kid. 

You were so angry and you didn't really know why. When Asgore left you found a dozen stupid reasons to argue with Toriel. Things had escalated and you'd stormed out. 

You had places to go and people to see, you told her. She was smothering you, holding you back...

But that wasn't it. Your heart just couldn't take it if you stayed. You knew what was going to happen. She and Asgore, reconciled, remarried. You were in the way. An embarrassment.

You left in anger, but you stayed away to clear the space between them, to let them get back together. Like Asriel, it was better if she forgot about you.

Her face, when you'd told her you were going. A deep sadness, straight away masked. On such a usually cheerful face it was terrible to see.

But your anger wouldn't let you change your mind. 

Despite everything you'd said to her, she still wasn't angry. She told you she understood, that she didn't want to stand in your way. 

“Be good, my child,” she said as you left her home for the last time. 

You found your own place, adapted to living on your own. But you missed her. No, not just that. You longed to see her again. But you pushed those feelings away. It would more painful to see her again, to see her happy without you.

And yet you found yourself checking her page on the Undernet social network every evening. Sure, you told yourself it was to read COOLSKELETON95 and ALPHYS's latest banter, but...

For someone who'd known nothing about computers until Alphys had taught her, she'd taken to online life with gusto. She was TOREIL on the Undernet, though. 

“My fingers,” she explained. “They're just too big and clumsy for this little keypad.”

Too big for a keypad, maybe, but the perfect size to squeeze the hand of a frightened child. 

Every time you went on the Undernet anxiety gripped you. You'd mess around, afraid to check her page, dreading seeing that inevitable status:

In a relationship with Asgore.   
It's complicated.

Your heart racing, you always checked anyway. And the relief you felt when you saw her relationship status hadn't changed.

Still single.

But then the fear would return, the fear she and Asgore were back together but she was keeping it hidden from you. She wouldn't want to hurt you, after all…

Stupid. Why would she think getting back together with Asgore would hurt you? You were still a stupid kid, jealously guarding your mom. 

“I don't know if this is endearing or pathetic,” she'd said the first time you'd flirted with her.

Oh, it was pathetic. Definitely pathetic.

She posted online pretty often. Funny cat videos, ASCII-art Alphys had sent her, snail facts, recipes… updates about how the school was going. She had human as well as monster students now. Humans were slowly getting used to the idea of sharing their world again, although there was still a lot of prejudice. Toriel, though, was a born teacher. It didn't take long before the human families nearby realised what you knew, that their children could have no better teacher than your mother.

Mom. You never told her you called her that in your head. That first phone call. What had driven you to call her mom? You'd just met.

Because in those few hours together you'd finally understood what it meant to have a mother. 

Her embarrassment, but quickly giving way to delight. 

“Please, call me 'mother' if it makes you happy.”

You knew it made her happy, too.

But it was nothing to the embarrassment when you rang her up later and flirted with her. Childish flirting, sure. It was hard not too, though. Her adorable fluster when you'd told her she was beautiful. She'd laughed it off.

“You can do lot better than a silly little lady like me.”

Later she told Sans that it was the most embarrassing moment of her life. 

As a kid, it hurt to hear that. Adults take children's emotions for granted, even sensitive ones like Toriel. It was a childish crush, sure. But it had felt very real to you. 

And it had stayed real.

“Oh boy,” was right.

Was Toriel beautiful? What did that mean, exactly? Could monsters even be beautiful to humans? Of course they could. There were lots of pretty monsters, cute monsters. You'd learned a lot about the monsters in your time in the Underground, making friends, trying to make sure no-one got hurt… 

No, Toriel was definitely beautiful. Her soul made her beautiful. Not just her soul. Everything about her. Her eyes: thickly-lashed, gentle. Her wide, smiling mouth. Fanged, but never scary. The warmth and softness of her fur, the strength of her hand as she held yours, giving it a squeeze when she thought you were scared. That generous motherly body, so soft and curvy and comfortable. When she hugged you, it felt as though you were being smothered in happiness. 

And that scent of sugar, burnt sugar. The smell you associated with her.

Well, snails have no smell, after all. Snail pies, either.

That scent had drawn you home. 

One morning you fell asleep on the train and went past your station. Instead of catching the next train back, you decided to walk back to your apartment instead. Walking along that unknown street you came upon a little bakery. Warm air billowed from the open doorway, carrying with it the smell of burnt sugar and butter.

It hit you like a wall and you stopped in your tracks. You were a kid again, that kid in the striped shirt.

A kid again. Had it really been that long?

Running away always takes time… it's a matter of time as much as space, after all.

You peeped inside the little bakery. The baker, a busty middle-aged lady dressed in an apron, was carrying a pie fresh out of the oven. The sight broke your heart and you fled. The baker, surprised, called out to you.

“Wait!”

Maybe Toriel had wanted to shout that out to you as well that day. But she hadn't. She'd just watched you go. And you hadn't looked back.

\----------------------------------------------

Even now you almost turn back, several times. It's a long trip to Toriel's house from your apartment. You chose your apartment especially for that reason. Smack bang in the middle of the city, whereas Toriel's house is here on the outskirts, surrounded by forest.

You leave your car on the street. The forest seems to have grown wild while you've been gone. You can well imagine a monster living here in the forest, a big, scary, snail-eating monster with horns and red eyes who breathes flame.

Well, throws it from her hands, anyway.

You follow what you think is the path to her home and promptly get lost. Could you really have forgotten the way? Maybe, maybe things have changed somehow. Every tree looks the same. You take a path which seems familiar, but it just leads you back in a circle. You thought you were all finished with the puzzles. You even half-expect to stumble upon a wandering monster. But up here, on the surface, they're on their best behaviour. Toriel has seen to that.

Maybe it's a sign… maybe you shouldn't bother her. Especially since you weren't able to get through to her on the phone to let her know you were coming. 

\---- -----  
*Turn back  
* Keep going...  
\---- -----

You're about to turn back when you smell something.  
The unmistakable sweetness of butterscotch.

You break the path. You zigzag through the trees, stumbling over fallen branches, leaves and twigs crunching under your feet. No path now, only the scent of butterscotch leading you, like the arrow of a compass. Stronger now. You break into a run and almost trip over a fallen log. You keep your footing somehow, stumble a few steps and burst out into another path. 

It seems more travelled and far less overgrown than the others. You decide the smell is coming from somewhere along the path to the left and start off in that direction. 

The snap of a twig stops you dead in your tracks. The sound came from behind you, from deeper into the forest. You swing around.

She's walking just a few feet away, dressed in those same long blue robes and carrying a pail in one hand. Just as you remember her. Well, maybe not exactly the same. She used to be taller. Has she shrunk?

No, you just got bigger.

Toriel sees you and stops, her violet eyes going wide. 

“Is… is that you, my child?” she whispers. 

'My child'. The words pierce you to your heart. You take a step toward her. 

“Yes, it's me, mom.”

She drops the pail, brings her large hands to her mouth in shock. The pail rolls away, disgorging its contents of snails onto the ground. You break into a run. 

Toriel comes to meet you. With little effort she snatches you up off your feet and crushes you to her, the soft expanse of her chest and the strength of her hug pushing all the air from your lungs. 

Suffocating in that embrace, you feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness, but you don't care. That familiar scent, of flour and sugar and spices and her own sweet fragrance, surrounds you and for the first time in forever your heart surges with joy.

“My child, my child, is it really you?” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your hair. 

Your muffled response alerts her to your plight and she quickly puts you back on your feet. Blushing, she apologises for her behaviour.

“So, small one, is this a visit? Or are you here on some other business?”

You laugh and tell her that it's a visit, of course. But deep down you can understand why she asked. It has been a long time.

You tell her you tried to call her. It's true. Someone picked up, but all you heard on the other end was snoring.

Toriel's face turns momentarily fierce, but not at you. “That trouble-making dog..!”

She doesn't need to explain. You've encountered that annoying little dog enough times before to know what she's talking about. 

But Toriel has already forgotten all about it. She takes hold of your shoulders and looks you up and down. She nods, seemingly pleased. 

“You got tall,” she says.

But not as tall as her, you say with a laugh. 

Toriel laughs, too. “You'll catch up to me soon.”

You shake your head. Humans don't grow that tall.

“No, of course not,” says Toriel. The smile on her lips trembles and her eyes grow wet. “It… it really is you, isn't it small one?” She lifts a hand to her mouth. “Oh, but you're so big now. I suppose calling you 'small one' doesn't make sense, any more, does it?”

You tell her you don't mind if she calls you 'small one'. You'll always be smaller than she is, after all.

For a few heartbeats you stand there, together, in silence. There's too much to say and none of it comes. Then Toriel takes hold of your hand.

“You must be tired and hungry,” she says.

You are.

She beams. “Well, lucky for you I just baked a cinnamon butterscotch pie!”

You tell her you've been smelling it the whole time you've been walking through the forest. 

“Oh, it was always your favourite, wasn't it?”

Well, you think to yourself, you've never been that fond of cinnamon, but…

Oh, it's too late to say anything about that now.

You glance back at the abandoned pail. Toriel follows your gaze. The snails are making a break for it.

“Oh, don't worry,” she says and laughs. “I'll come back and get them later.”

You walk down the path, your hand in hers as she leads you. She keeps glancing across at you and you ask her what the matter is.

“Oh, nothing,” she says. The happy smile seems glued to her face. “it's just that….when we first met, you barely came up to my waist. But now...” She stops and turns so that you're facing each other. “Now you're easily up to my...my chest.”

She blushes at the awkward word. She's right, though. You're level with her chest now, that ample, comfy chest that you want to be squished up against again. 

You resume your walk. It's not long before the path opens out into a grassy little glade. The smell of butterscotch is especially intense now. You step out into the soft expanse of grass and there, in the centre of the glade, you see an adorable little cottage, almost a copy of the one you discovered in the Ruins all those years ago. A thin wisp of smoke rises from the chimney, while outside a washing line is heavy with freshly-laundered clothes.

Wait… are those Toriel's socks? Scandalous! 

But no sign of anyone else's clothes. Relief floods you.

Toriel notices you looking and drops your hand. She rushes over to the laundry basket and starts taking the clothes off the line, her face flushing red.

“Please go and make yourself at home,” she says. “You'll find the door is unlocked.”

Unlocked. Just like Toriel to have an open-door policy to visitors. But then, as one of the most powerful monsters, she has very little to fear.

When you reach the door, Toriel looks up from her frenzied folding. “Just turn the knob to the right, little one.”

You stifle a laugh and do as she says. She hasn't changed a bit. 

The smell of baking assaults you as you pull the door open and step inside. No, nothing has changed. The familiar living room, with its table laden with books, no doubt taken from the bookshelf on the far wall, and two chairs pushed up against it: one small and one big, in addition to the larger-than-human armchair beside the fireplace. A small, subdued fire lies glittering in the ashes. The room is warm and smells of sweetness. 

The scent of baking is coming from the kitchen. You duck your head through the door. A pie is sitting on the kitchen table, cooling. Funny that she'd bake a butterscotch pie. She doesn't even like butterscotch all that much.

Maybe she ran out of snails. That's why she had to go get some more.

Back in the living room you check out the bookshelf. Books. Lots of them. You glance at the titles. Some you remember from the Ruins, but there are some new ones, too, including the ones you sent her. You never forget to send her a book on her birthday and at Christmas. 

“You always were an inquisitive child,” says Toriel as she bustles in with the laundry and ducks through the other door to stash it away. Her bedroom. Lucky you didn't have time to go poke around there as well. It was all very well for a kid to sticky-beak in someone's bedroom, but a grown -up? If Toriel hadn't come back in you would have gone and looked, though. Coming back here has made you feel like a kid again.

Toriel comes back in and pulls up one of the chairs for you. You try and sit down on it, but it's too small.

She pulls the larger, Toriel-sized one out for you and you sit down. It's too big for you, but far more comfortable than the other had been.

An odd look passes over Toriel's face and she smiles softly.

“You did get big, didn't you?”

You nod, feeling suddenly awkward on the Toriel-sized chair. You glance across at the other smaller one. Your old chair, of course. From when you lived here with her.

Better to forget. This is just a visit, after all. A surprise visit of an old friend. That's all.

Toriel stokes the fire before sitting herself down in her armchair. The room grows warmer. It's late autumn and the air outside was cool. The same time of year when you climbed Mt. Ebott all those years ago. 

She sighs. “I feel suddenly nostalgic.”

You tell her you do, too. 

“How long has it been?”

You do a quick calculation. The total shocks you, but Toriel's earnest face stops you from lying. You tell her.

She closes her eyes. “No wonder you're so big.” She opens them again and the smile she flashes you is self-deprecating. “Of course, when you get to be an old lady like me the days all melt together. Especially when school is out.”

That's right. It's autumn vacation, of course. Those short days, when night seems to be always ready to fall even when the day has just begun. The crackle of leaves under your feet, the smell of wood-smoke, the hint of winter's chill in the afternoon air. 

You wonder what Toriel does on days like this, now she lives alone. Bakes pies, reads her books in front of the fire?

She always did do a lot of reading…

You laugh, telling her she's not an old lady. 

She blinks at you. “Oh, but I am!”

\---- -----  
*Change the subject…  
*Tell her she's a spring chicken...  
\---- -----

You decide to change the subject and ask her about the school.

Her face grows bright. “Oh, it's doing wonderfully well. I have so many students, now. In fact, I may have to look for more teachers. I can't handle so many children at once. They run rings around me, much like you used to.”

The way she's smiling tells you she's happiest when she's having rings run around her. 

“Oh, and I have human students, now, too!” she says, brimming with pride. 

You tell her you know. She's been posting about it a lot on her wall.

“My wall? Oh, but I don't...”

No, the wall of her social network page, on the Undernet. 

“Ah! On I see. It's called a wall, is it?” She shakes her head. “Sometimes I wonder if Alphys really did the right thing, fixing my phone. It's so confusing. And these hands of mine...” She lifts one to her face and looks at it, regretful. “They're too big, aren't they?”

You tell her they're the perfect size.

That shy smile, again. “You were always kind to me, my child.” She laughs. “Do you remember that time you rang me on the cell phone? It was just after we met. You rang me and told me I had a beautiful voice...”

You laugh. But inside your heart skips a beat. 

“...and that you'd like to take me out on a date sometime. And then you called me something…. something saucy.” Her eyes narrow and she pouts. “You were very cheeky, making fun of this old lady.”

But you weren't making fun, you burst out. You really did think.. do think… that she has a beautiful voice. You also said her eyes were beautiful, you remember.

Toriel brings a hand to her mouth. “Oh, you're right! I remember you did. And right after you asked if you could call me 'mother'.” Embarrassment. “You certainly were an interesting child.”

You were just being honest, you reply.

She laughs. “Oh, enough with your jokes.” She lies back and sighs, then looks across at you through her lashes. “You've changed your hair.”

You nod. The page-boy style didn't really suit you any more.

“I thought it was cute,” she said. “Though I remember you were such a pretty child I wasn't sure whether you were a girl or a boy.” She sits forward. “But I like what you've done with it. You look very... handsome.”

Her cheeks turn pink. You feel your on face grow hot, too. 

“The striped t-shirt?”

You tell her that stripes only really suit kids.

Toriel sighs. “Somehow, you'll always be a child to me.”

The words, though innocent, pierce you. 

Stupid. Of course she feels that way. You'll always be her child, and she your mother. 

“But enough about the past,,” she says, sitting forward. “You must tell me everything that's been going on in your life. You don't post much on your… wall.” Her eyes are eager. “Oh, did I say that right?”

You laugh and nod. But she has a point. Apart from a few posts, you've kept yourself to yourself mostly. You were always like that, even as a kid. 'Cagey', Sans called it. 

But everyone has their secrets. 

You tell her about your job, about juggling the everyday life of a human with your more important job of acting as the ambassador between humans and monsters. The monsters have never been the problem, but the humans are sometimes prone to… misunderstandings.

Toriel's face grows fierce. “I've tried to keep the less sensible ones under control, but there's always some who are not good at taking advice.”

You laugh and say that that reminds you of you. 

Toriel's expression turns pensive. “it's lucky that you were like that, though. If I'd destroyed the exit to the Ruins, you would never have left, and you never would have… none of what happened would ever have happened.” A sad smile. “If I'd kept you all wrapped up in cotton wool in my house, the barrier would still be up and we'd...” Her voice drops away.

If you'd stayed. She's right, of course, but you don't tell her how many times in the Underground you'd found yourself wishing you'd followed her advice. 

The pie remains on the table, uneaten, so focussed are the two of you on catching up. Toriel tells you everything about the school, about her students. She's so proud of her job. You're pleased to see how happy she seems. But behind it all a nagging doubt…

You mention Asgore, as though an incidental thought. Toriel's expression straight away changes to one you can't quite place. Annoyance? Confusion? Yearning? It's hard to tell.

Maybe it's a mixture of all of them.

“Asgore is fine,” she says after a while. “He helps out a lot, especially around the school.” She laughs. “He actually makes an excellent grounds-keeper, isn't that strange? I think it suits him better than being king.”

So… does he still often visit?

Toriel 's eyes narrow. “He sometimes invites himself over. He's always asking me for advice. I swear, that man can't tie his laces without asking someone else whether he should or not. You'd think we were still married!”

Your heart freezes, but your need to know the truth fills you with determination. You forge ahead.

So... she's not thinking of getting back together with him? 

Toriel stares at you, then bursts into laughter. “What? No!” She sighs and pats your hand. “Sometimes, little one, two people are just not meant to be. Asgore and I… I'm afraid we're not good for each other, any more. Friends, maybe, but nothing else.” 

You stare down at the table, trying to hide the joyful smile you can't keep from beaming forth. Luckily, Toriel decides to change the subject. 

“But you've left out the most important news,” she says. You look up to find her violet eyes have narrowed and that motherly mock-fierceness has returned. “You really shouldn't keep secrets from your mom, you know!”

Your smile shifts to confusion and you tell her you've no idea what you're talking about. 

“Your girlfriend,” she says. “You haven't said anything about her at all.”

You swallow. Your girlfriend. What is there to say, exactly? 

And how did she know about her?

Toriel answers your unasked question. “Sans told me you'd met someone,” she says. “So what is she like? You haven't posted any pictures of her on the Undernet. I'm sure she's cute.”

Of course. That time you ran into Sans at the beach. He must have…

There's another social network, you tell Toriel. A human one. You usually post everything human-related on that one. 

Toriel's eyes grow briefly sad. You admit, it does seem as if you've been keeping things from her. It's not like you were ashamed of your girlfriend, though. 

So why did you want to keep her a secret from Toriel? 

Because you were ashamed. Being with that girl had felt strangely like cheating. 

Stupid. Cheating on your mother? Who even thinks that way?

'Oh boy,' is right.

It's not only for humans, you say quickly. If she likes, you can set up a page there for her as well.

Toriel shakes her head. Her smile is gentle. “No, no, no. Having one page is confusing enough for this old lady. And it's good that you have your other friends, too.” She leans forward, conspiratorial. “But I'm not going to let you off the hook. You have to tell me all about her.”

What is there to say? You met her at work. She was funny and nice and kind and pretty and…

...and not Toriel.

“You have to invite her here, little one. I'll bake a pie. Do you know if she likes butterscotch or…?”

You tell Toriel you can't do that.

She blinks her big, violet eyes. “Oh, please don't worry. I promise I won't embarrass...”

No, the truth is you're no longer together. You broke up with her. 

Toriel frowns. “But if she was so nice, why did you…?”

What can you tell her? That smelling a freshly-baked butterscotch pie made you realise you didn't love her? How stupid does that sound? 

You say you guess that you just don't understand humans that well, after all. You're not lying to Toriel. It's the truth.

The answer seems to satisfy her. “I suppose it's inevitable you'd feel more comfortable with the idea of having a monster for a girlfriend. After all, you spent so much time amongst us in the Underground.” Her eyes light up. “Have you thought about going out with a monster?”

You stare at her. Her words are disturbingly close to the truth.

She takes your startled look as being unsure and laughs. “Oh, but there are a number of single monsters who would suit you very well I think. How about that girl with the pigtails, the one who ran all those bake-sales?”

Who, Muffet?

“Yes, that's her. Don't you think she's very pretty? She's a very good dancer, too.”

Well yes, but…

“And she's a baker. I think a girl who can cook would suit you really well.”

You say that Muffet is all those things, but she's not exactly your type. 

“Well then,” says Toriel, bringing a finger to her mouth. “What about Temmie?”

What, Temmie? Which one?

“Oh, the cute little one who used to run that shop in the Temmie Village.”

What, that Temmie? Really?

Toriel face is serious. “Yes. I know she's a bit… different, but she owns her own business. And she's going to college, now. I think you need a girl who's in charge of things and who's well-educated.”

But Temmie is… You decided to leave that sentence hanging. Instead you just say that Temmie is very nice, but unfortunately you're allergic to her. The last time she touched you…

At the word 'touched', Toriel's eyes narrow dangerously. You explain quickly, stumbling over your words, that Temmie was always trying to pet you for some reason. And it hurt.

“Well,” sighs Toriel. “Anyway, there are still a lot of nice monster girls. I should organise a date for you.”

No, please don't, you think to yourself while you smile and nod and say it's okay, that you really…

Toriel shakes her head. “Everyone needs someone, my child. There are few things sadder than being without a special someone to share all the good things and bad things in your life with.”

She turns away, but not before you see the sadness flickering in her eyes.

“Well,” she says, clapping her hands together and standing up. “I really am a terrible mother. You said you were hungry and I've been stopping you from eating with all my silly questions. Let's have dinner.” She moves towards the kitchen. “I have some hot chocolate in the pantry. Would you like some?”

You say that you're okay with just the pie. Some water would be good, though.

Toriel frowns. “Oh, but you always loved chocolate.”

Uh, no. That wasn't you. 

Toriel realises her mistake. She dusts her hands nervously on the front of her robe, as though her words are lint that has dropped there. 

“I'll go get you some water,” she says. 

You eat dinner. You know that Toriel prefers snail pie to butterscotch and cinnamon, but she shares the pie with you anyway. The first bite sends a wave of nostalgic feelings pouring through you.

“How is it?” she asks eagerly.

You tell her it's even more delicious than you remember. 

Your words please her and the earlier awkwardness dissipates.

Even loaded with sugar, the pie makes you sleepy. You feel your eyelids growing heavier. You glance at your watch. Wait, is it really that late? You've been talking with Toriel for hours and it only feels like a few minutes. 

You stifle a yawn, but Toriel spots it. She stands up and takes your plate and glass. “Time for bed, small one.”

You protest that you're not sleepy and you still have a lot to talk about, but Toriel puts her foot down. It's never a good idea to mess with her when she's wearing that fierce expression. 

“You need your sleep. You're a grown-up now, and I'm sure you work very hard. Don't let this silly old lady's questions keep you up. We'll have time to talk tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Her eyes are open, questioning. 

You tell her you really don't want to bother her. It's not far back to your apartment. You'll just…

Toriel shakes her head. “No, I simply won't allow it. Driving when you're sleepy is very dangerous.” She smiles. “Your friend Papyrus has told me all about motor cars.” She purses her lips. “Now, you can sleep in your old room, but I'm not sure if I have any spare pyjamas around that will fit you.”

No, you really should go…

You see something pass across Toriel's face. Disappointment. She knows you're trying to leave. That look… suddenly, you're back on that cliff looking out over Mt. Ebott and the City. 

You don't want to go., really. It's just that your heart won't…

You tell Toriel not to worry about pyjamas. You have an overnight bag in your car with a toothbrush and razor and other stuff.

Toriel arches her eyebrows in curiosity, but she doesn't ask you why you have all that in the car. From when you used to stay over at your girlfriend's place, of course. 

You get up and stretch. That chair really was becoming a bit too comfortable. You excuse yourself but Toriel follows you to the door.

“I should come with you,” she says. “There are a lot of monsters around, from the Ruins.”

You laugh and say that you can deal with a few Froggits or Moldsmal.

Toriel smiles. “I keep forgetting you're all grown up.” Her eyes slip across your body. “You grew so tall,” she murmurs.

This time you don't get lost in the forest and you're soon back with your overnight bag. Toriel, though, is waiting in the doorway and she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees you reappear on the other side of the glade. 

“I've run a bath for you,” she says.

You take the bath. It's the first bath you've had in a long time since your apartment is only big enough to have a shower. You lie there, enjoying the warm water, half expecting to see Toriel appear in the doorway with a scrubbing brush in her hand. She always used to scrub your back for you. Of course, you were a kid back then. Being naked in front of your mom wasn't embarrassing.

Well, maybe it was a bit embarrassing. You always made sure there were lots of suds in the bath. You were that age, after all, when your body betrays you at every turn. 

You lie back and imagine Toriel appearing anyway, pulling up the sleeves of her robe and getting busy scrubbing off the dirt of the day's play. Carefree days before that terrible argument, before you ran away again.

This time, though, in your sleepiness your dreamy mind paints a different picture. You're all grown up. Toriel puts aside the scrubbing brush. She pushes some soap into her big hands and rubs them together until she makes a fragrant meringue of foam.

“My child, you really need to take better care of yourself,” she tuts. Her cool hands touch your back and you almost jump out of your skin. “Don't you wash yourself properly? It's a very bad habit.”

You tell her that you always find that spot on your back hard to reach.

Toriel slides her palms down your back. The sensation is amazing. She has such strong hands.

“Well, I suppose a mother's work is never done, even when their child is all grown up,” she murmurs as she washes your back. “You've gotten so big, little one. So handsome and strong, too.”

You close your eyes. The tension of the day is scrubbed off you by Toriel's gentle washing. But soon it's replaced by a different tension. 

Oh god. You're… wait a second.

You splash your hands up and down in the bath until the foam is thick, covering your body's mortifying reaction.

“Please be careful not to splash me, my child,” Toriel scolds you. “If these robes get wet, they get rather… see-through.”

Oh god. Why did she have to put that image in your head?

You turn away and fix your eyes on the tiles of the far wall. Toriel hums happily to herself as she washes your underarms. You start to squirm. Her touch just feels too good!

“Please don't wiggle, little one. I have to get every little spot, otherwise…”

Her hands slip around your sides and begin to soap up your chest. Her palms slip over your nipples. They're rock hard. A jolt of pleasure runs down your back, straight to that embarrassingly honest part of you.

You bite back a yelp of delight. Her hands drop down onto your stomach, then lower….

“Excuse me,” she says. “Just one last little bit to...”

Her hands brush your hardness.

“Oh!” Toriel pulls her hand out of the suds, her eyes wide, a flush spreading across her cheeks. “Is that your…? Oh dear. Did I do that?”

You start to babble something, but she just laughs.

“There's no need to be ashamed, little one. It's a natural reaction. Was this old lady's washing really making you feel that good?”

Mortified, you nod. Yes, she was making you feel very good.

Toriel smiles. It's a sultry smile, not the sort of smile you've ever seen on the real Toriel's face. But you've often seen it on dream Toriel's.

Oh boy. This fantasy again. 

“Well, this needs to get washed, too,” she murmurs into your ear. Her hand slips over your length and begins to stroke it up and down. 

An incredible flash of pleasure bursts between your legs. Shocked, you slip deeper into the bath, your arms and legs flailing. A great tsunami of soapy water crashes over the side of the bath, all over Toriel. She squeals and pulls away. The whole of her front is soaked, now.

You sit back up, babbling an apology. Toriel glares at you, mock-fierce. 

“Oh, why must you always squirm so much when I'm trying to wash you, little one? Now look at what you've done!”

The front of Toriel's robe is soaked, and like she said before, it's become see-through. You can clearly see her bra underneath, that big mom-bra holding up her huge, overgenerous breasts, and poking through the sodden material her large, dark nipples.

“Well, I can't very well keep washing you like this,” Toriel mutters. She stands and taking the hem of her robe in her hands she pulls it up and over her head in a single fluid motion.

You sit there, your mouth flapping like a fish at Toriel, now dressed only in her bra and panties. Plain white, sensible underwear, the sort a mom wears. 

She glances at you, turns and folds her wet robe up and places it on the drying rack. While she does this you get an awesome view of her hips and butt. It's an ample butt, but very shapely, a perfect match for her big boobs. It's a mom body, to be honest.. you can't eat snail and butterscotch pie without getting some generous curves and soft padding in all the right places. And her little tail, that short little fluffy goat-tail poking out above her cheeks. You can barely resist reaching out and touching the adorable thing.

As if sensing your intention, Toriel's tail flicks up and she turns around, her eyes stern. 

“Why are you staring at me like that, my child?” She glances down at her body. “Is it because of this underwear? I'm sorry if they seem a little plain, but I am just an old lady. I don't have anyone to show off to, any more.”

You say that you weren't staring at all.

Toriel frowns. “It's not good to tell fibs, little one.”

Okay, okay, you say. You were looking at her underwear. But you weren't thinking it looked plain or boring at all. It suits her.

Toriel laughs. “Well, when you're my size, you're not exactly spoiled for choice in the style of your underclothes. It's a shame, really. I'd like to wear something sexier than this...”

Sexier? You swallow. It's already too damn sexy as it is.

Toriel's eyes go wide. 

Whoops. You thought that out loud.

But Toriel laughs again. “Now, you really shouldn't swear, my child. But thank you for your kind words. I know you're just humouring me… I mean, look at me.” She pats her stomach and squeezes her thighs. “Too many snail pies, I'm afraid.” She drops her gaze. “I'm sure your girlfriend is a lot sexier than I am.”

You can't stand to see her sad. You lean across the edge of the bath and throw your arms around her waist. The water in the bath surges with you. Toriel squeals, first at your touch and then at the wave of water that splashes over the two of you. 

“Oh no!” she gasps. “Now my underwear is totally soaked as well!” 

Pressing your cheek against her soft stomach you look up at her apologetically. That fierce look. You like it almost as much as her smile, you realise. 

“Oh, what am I going to do with you?” She places a hand on your head and strokes your wet hair, a patient smile replacing her frown. “Well, you always were a mischievous child.” She gently takes your hands from around her waist and sits you back down in the bath. Then she places a hand against the waistband of her pants. 

“Totally soaked,” she mutters. Then that sultry smile again. “I suppose, since you're naked, that it won't matter if I take these off as well, right? You won't be embarrassed seeing your mom naked, will you?”

You shake your head, trying not to seem to eager.

She grins. “Well, then...”

Toriel's big thumbs slip under the elastic waistband. She peels her underwear down off her wide hips in degrees, slowly revealing her thick thighs and…

“Is everything alright in there, my child?”

The dream vanishes. Your hands fly out of the water. You shout back, saying that you must have just fallen asleep or something.

The door opens a crack. “It's dangerous to fall asleep in the bath, little one. You should get out before you catch a cold.”

You tell her you will. The door slowly shuts. You wait until you hear footsteps before you get out, though. There's no way you want Toriel to accidentally walk in while you're sporting this painfully swollen erection. She'd probably scream and faint if she saw you like this.

You dry yourself with difficulty. It really doesn't want to go down. And it's a bit gross masturbating here in Toriel's bathroom. You'll just have to deal with it. 

You slip on your pyjamas and glance at yourself in the mirror. A bit of judicious adjustment and there's no way anyone can tell you're rock hard. 

Damn, that fantasy… It was stuff just like that which made things so uncomfortable between you and Toriel when you were living here. 

Toriel has warm milk waiting for you when you come out. You sit at the kitchen table and drink it. It's like you never left, somehow. 

Toriel watches you drink. 

“I thought you didn't like to wear stripes any more,” she murmurs.

You glance down. Oh right. Your pyjamas. They've got stripes.

Well, you say. Pyjamas are an exception and...

Toriel smiles. “Oh, please ignore me. I'm just teasing you.” The smile slips from her lips. “I…. It's just nice to have you back, my child.” Her eyes go wide. “To visit, I mean. To visit.”

You put down the cup. You can feel tears starting in the corners of your eyes. What are you supposed to say?

“I missed you too, mom.”

Toriel picks up your cup and takes it to the sink.

Her hand. You noticed it was trembling.

“Well,” she says, turning back after she's washed up. Her expression is stern and mom-like now. “Time to brush your teeth and go to bed.”

You stand up meekly. There's no way you can argue with her in this mode. When you get back out of the bathroom, you hear her call out.

Your old bedroom.

She's just finished tucking the bedclothes into your bed. 

“I'm usually up early, but please, don't worry about sleeping in. You need the rest.” She cups your cheek. “You've got bags under your eyes. I don't think you've been sleeping properly.”

She holds her hand there for a moment longer than seems natural. Then she pulls it away and moves to the door.

“Good night, my child. Sweet dreams.”

She closes the door, leaving you standing there touching your hand to your tingling cheek. Just a single touch of her can… 

You shake your head. No, better not to think of all that stuff. She's right. You really haven't been sleeping well. You need rest, and you won't be able to do it if you're diamond hard. 

You glance across at the bed. Your old bed. You sit down on it. It's far too small, of course. Could she really not have noticed? 

You pull the bed clothes off. Luckily, there's plenty of space on the floor. You fluff up your pillow and lie down. 

It's not exactly the most comfortable place you've ever slept. Well, it's better than the back-seat of your car, anyway. 

You reach up and switch off the lamp.

You spend a good hour tossing and turning, half dropping into sleep and jerking back into full wakefulness. No matter what position you lie in, you can't seem to get comfortable.

It's only partly to do with sleeping on the floor, you realise. 

You can't believe you're back here. There's just a wall between your rooms. Just a wall, but it may as well be the entire length of the Underground. That strange distance between you… it's even worse, now. 

You should never have come back. You can't get comfortable because you're not supposed to be here. This isn't your home any more. 

Your apartment. Maybe you could just sneak out… leave a note, of course. Say you got a call. 

No, so stupid… so stupid. Running away again.

Running away, running away...

Noise from outside. You think you're still dreaming. 

The door opens a crack. Pale light forms a bands on the far wall of the room.

“Little one? You're still awake?”

You murmur.

“May I come in?”

You mutter something, and after a moment's hesitation the door slips open.

A gasp. 

“Oh, what are you doing sleeping on the floor?”

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. The bed, you say… it's a bit too small for you, now.

Toriel brings an exasperated hand to her forehead. “Oh, how could I be so stupid?” She picks up your pillow and takes your hand. 

She's wearing her nightdress, the shadow of her voluptuous form visible beneath it in the half-light as she leads you into her room.

Wait, is this a dream?

“Please,” she says. “You can sleep in my bed. It's more than big enough for you.”

You start to protest, but she bustles you under the covers.

Warm. It's already so warm. And her scent… it's everywhere.

Toriel grabs her pillow and makes for the door. 

You sit up and ask her where's she's going.

“Oh,” she says. She places the pillow in front of her chest. She never wears a bra to bed and she's always been embarrassed at being seen by you in her nightclothes, even when you were a kid. “I'm going to sleep on my armchair. It's very comfortable, you know.”

No. You can't force her out of her own bed. There's more than enough space here in her bed for the two of you.

Toriel blushes. “Oh, but my child. Don't you think it's a little..?”

You're so sleepy you can't really think straight. You throw your legs off the side of the bed. You won't be able to sleep knowing you've taken her bed, you tell her. You'll make do with the floor.

“No, no, no…” Toriel closes the bedroom door with a sigh. “Oh, you stubborn child. Very well… “

You climb back under the covers, keeping to the edge so that Toriel has space to get in on the other side. You feel the mattress sink down as she sits on it.

“Are you sure, little one? I do snore, you remember.”

You tell her you do remember, and that you snore, too. 

“Oh, but you really think there's enough space?”

Of course there is, you say. 

Silence. Then you feel the covers slip down and the bed shifts as Toriel lies down beside you. She's careful not to touch you. But as she gets herself comfortable, you feel the softness of her tail brush your butt.

“Oh!” she says. “My apologies. My tail… it's always getting in the way, isn't it?”

You laugh. Has she really forgotten all the times you slept in her bed? The nightmares?

“No,” she murmurs. “I haven't forgotten.”

Bad things happened in the Underground. You still have nightmares at times.

“Goodnight, darling.”

Goodnight, you say.

Surrounded with her fragrance and warmth, it takes only three heartbeats for you to fall asleep. 

\----------------------

“My darling...”

It's her voice. At first you think you're dreaming. No, not that dream again. The one where she slips into your room while you're sleeping and… 

You feel arms slip around your waist, warm breath against the back of your neck. You start to fall back asleep. Oh. It's just her, the human. Your girlfriend… she always comes onto your side of the bed and hugs you during the night, as if she's afraid you'll vanish or something.

She makes you overheat, but it always seems cruel to try and escape from her. 

What's she wearing tonight? Feels fluffy. She's always complaining about being cold. Did she buy herself some new fluffy pyjamas or...? 

“...my child.”

Your eyes flash open. The room is dark, but starlight coming through the window leaves a gentle sheen on every surface. A little bedstead, a lamp, a picture frame… 

A picture of you. Why of you? Don't you have a picture of Toriel on your bedside table?

Another nightmare...

No. The room is quiet. That scent, that beautiful sweet scent everywhere. This can't be a nightmare. 

Your old room. Back in Toriel's house. You're just dreaming about Toriel again. It's that dream where you're married and sharing her big bed.

She snuggles closer to you, her muzzle pressing against your neck. Warmth, and moisture. A sleepy kiss. She wriggles and you feel her plump breasts press against the small of your back.

Oh, that dream. You sigh and lie back and enjoy it. Must be because she's wearing something fluffy to bed. It's worth it, feeling this hot… 

You're as hard as a rock. Maybe if you tease her a bit, she'll wake up and then you can… 

You turn over. Your hands run across her arm. Her fluffy pyjamas make her seem really big. Oh well. You bring your hands higher, up to her collar. You'll need to get these things off if you want to convince her.

No collar. The fluffiness just continues. 

She sighs under your touch.

Too sleepy to mess with clothes. You slip your hands down onto her boobs.

Wait. Have… have they always been this huge?

“Oh!” she exhales.

You're not dreaming. And this is not your human girlfriend.

Toriel. You're sharing her bed.

You freeze. You slide your hands away, slowly, fearful she'll wake up and find you… doing this. Molesting her.

But wait.. didn't she start it? Is she…?

No, she's asleep. Dreaming.

You pull your hands away. She grabs hold of them at the wrist, places them back onto her boobs. 

“Oh, darling, darling...”

She's dreaming. Dreaming of him.

Your heart turns to ice. She thinks you're him, and is dreaming that you're… 

“Oh, oh, my darling.”

Your eyes sting. Tears. What you'd always feared.

“My darling… my darling...” 

Please. Please don't say his name. Your heart… your heart just couldn't take it.

“Oh my darling… oh Frisk!”

Wait, what?

Toriel pulls your hands closer. She sighs, presses her muzzle against your temple. You feel the softest of kisses against your skin.

“Oh my child. We should… we should not be doing this.”

“...mom?” you whisper. “Are you awake?”

She makes no response. Your eyes have adjusted to the low light of the room, now. You pull gently away. Toriel's eyes are closed. 

Her hands drop your wrists, slip down your sides.

“Oh,” she murmurs against your neck. 

Her hands reach your waist, slip around it. Her large hands cup your butt and squeeze it gently.

“Oh!” she mutters. She pulls you closer.

You're rock hard, even despite the awkwardness. Oh god. 

Toriel continues to pull you against her, as though she wants you to become part of her. Your face is submerged in her soft breasts and you struggle to breathe. She begins to pant against your hair. 

“Oh Frisk. Yes, darling. Just like that. Oh, you're such a quick learner. Oh… oh…. Oh!”

You bite your lip, trying not to cry out. The feeling of your hardness pressing up against her is indescribable. The softness of her thighs, the silkiness of her underwear. Her thighs and tummy... If she keeps rubbing you against her like this then… then you're going to…!

Toriel gives a little gasp, squeezes your butt hard. She shudders, her big boobs shaking against your face. She gasps again, squeezes even harder. Her thighs grip your hardness between them.

Is… is she coming?

It's too much to take. You can't hold back any more. Shame and joy fill you as you feel yourself plummet over the brink and climax. You hold onto Toriel, hugging her shivering body to you as you spurt into your pyjamas. She continues to come, too, panting out her dreamy pleasure into your hair. 

Pleasure spills through your body. Oh god, this is a dream isn't it? Some strange dream, the product of too much sugar before you went to bed.

But no. As the pleasure ebbs and you feel exhaustion settle over you, you become aware of the cold stickiness in your pyjama bottoms. No, this is no dream. It's very, very real.

Shame fills you. You should have pulled away, stopped her from…

But you tried to. There was no way you could have escaped her embrace. Even now, it's only with difficulty that you squirm out of her arms. Her hands slip from your butt and you pull yourself away. 

Toriel murmurs, her hands reaching out for you. You grab your pillow and put it in her way. She takes it and draws it flush against her chest, lifting her knees to cuddle it to her. In the gentle starlight you can see her face. The fur around her horns is dishevelled, her ears lopsided, but there's a contented smile on her lips. 

“Frisk...” she murmurs into the corner of the pillow. 

You slip out of bed and tiptoe to the bathroom, where you take off your pyjama bottoms. Gross. As quietly as possible you clean them as best you can and slip them into the laundry basket at the bottom. A strange nostalgia strikes you. Didn't you used to do the exact same thing as a kid? 

Ever since you've come back, you've felt like you're half your age. 

You slip into your room and find some underwear and put that on. Then you sneak back into her room. It'll be strange is she wakes up without you. She'll think you snuck away during the night and will get angry at you. 

You get back into bed. Toriel murmurs and turns over. Damn. She still has your pillow. 

You idiot. You just came together with her and you're thinking about your pillow? It doesn't matter… it doesn't matter. It just happened. She was asleep. Forget about it.

She looks so happy, holding onto your pillow.

“Frisk...”

Even with your mind going a million miles an hour in every direction, your pleasure-sapped body falls quickly into a deep and surprisingly restful sleep.

\-----------------------

You planned on waking up early so you could have a shower and get dressed, but when you open your eyes you're alone in the bed.

You reach down. You're wearing underwear.

So it wasn't a dream.

You get out of bed. There's a delicious smell coming from under the door. Baking. The clattering of pans is unmistakable.

But what's that other sound? That sweet melody…

Toriel is humming to herself.

You sneak back to your room, get into some clothes then dump your pyjama tops in the laundry. You don't want Toriel asking any embarrassing questions.

As soon as you walk in Toriel pops her head out from the kitchen doorway and smiles at you.

“Oh, I thought I heard you. Did you sleep well?”

You find it hard to look into her open violet eyes, but you force yourself to. You don't want her to think anything strange is going on. You nod, trying not to blush. 

“Oh, I'm glad.” she says. Her face takes on a look of relief. “I was worried I kept you awake.”

Your mouth drops open. 

“I have a confession to make,” says Toriel, dropping her gaze. “I… I did something very bad during the night.”

You swallow. What did she…?

She looks up at you, ashamed. “I stole your pillow.”

Your pillow. You want to break out laughing. You tell her not to worry. You still slept really well.

It's true. Even after everything that happened, you feel totally refreshed. It's weird. You haven't slept so well in years.

“Well good,” says Toriel. “Now sit down. I'll have breakfast out in just a few moments.”

Breakfast is so normal that you start to imagine that last night actually was just a strange, vivid dream. But of course, it can't be. It's just that Toriel was fast asleep. She doesn't realise anything happened. 

It's with relief that you fall into your old ways, familiar chit-chat over breakfast. 

Eventually, Toriel glances at you. She starts to say something, but seems to decide against it. You press her.

“Oh, it's just…” Her eyes are wide and hopeful. “I was wondering what your plans were. Do you have to rush away? I know you're very busy in the city...”

You hesitate. Shouldn't you really be getting back? After last night, maybe it's best if you put some distance between the two of you.

\---- -----  
*Stay with her.  
*You really do have to be getting back...  
\---- -----

You shake your head. You don't have to leave so soon. You tell Toriel that if it's okay with her, you'd like to stay a little longer. You still have a lot of things to catch up about.

Years of things, actually. 

She beams at you. “You're very welcome to stay as long as you like, little one. This is your second home of course.”

Home.

That reminds you. There seems to be a few jobs around the cottage that need doing. You tell Toriel you'd be happy to help out.

Toriel claps her hands. It's an adorably girlish mannerism. “Oh, the house could do with a man's touch, it's true.” She frowns. “I'm afraid I've allowed a lot of things get away on me. I suppose I've just been busy with the school and with all my baking. I know I have some tools lying around here somewhere…”

It's no problem, you say. You'll start after breakfast.

\-----------

It's more than a few things. Yesterday, you'd only had a quick glance at the outside of the cottage and in the light of day the place is seeming very run down. 

You leave Toriel to do her piles of marking and other school-related paperwork and settle down to fix the most serious problems. First, the roof has a few loose tiles. Then, the verandah has a number of rotten boards that could be dangerous…

Dangerous. You remember how things used to be when you lived with Toriel. She always kept you wrapped in cotton wool. Even the iron for the fire had had its point ground down. She must really have been busy to let the cottage end up in this state, especially since she says her students sometimes visit.

Even with only a short break for lemonade and then lunch, you've only managed to do a small fraction of the jobs around the place. 

The sun is setting when Toriel finally gets sick of calling you back in and comes out, her hands on her hips.

“Come down this instant,” she says. “You must be exhausted!”

Just one last nail…

“Right now!”

You almost jump out of your skin. Flushing, you climb back down the ladder.

“Look at you,” says Toriel, tutting as she grabs your hand. “You're awash in sweat…. And you...” She blushes. “You smell of perspiration.” She drops your hand. “I'll go bring you a towel.”

You watch as she bustles back inside, flustered. You give yourself an experimental sniff.

Uh. She's not wrong. No wonder she ran off so quick. 

You get out of the shower, feeling a million times better. You're drying your hair when you see that Toriel's been busy while you've been washing. The table is full of dishes. You're happy to see that it's human food as well as the stuff that monsters like to eat. In the Underground, you survived on a diet of Popsato Chisps and Rock Candy.

You murmur appreciatively. It all looks delicious.

Toriel glances at you, an embarrassed smile on her face. “Oh, it's really nothing. With you helping out I had a lot of time spare so I was able to cook some of your favourite dishes. You didn't forget that I can cook things other than pies, right?”

You smile at her. Of course you didn't. But there, in the centre, is a butterscotch pie, already sliced into and steaming hot. 

You give it a sniff. Sweetness, and that hint of spice. 

Uh. Cinnamon.

Every time. But somehow the scent melts your heart. Maybe you've started to get a taste for the spicy heat of cinnamon. 

After dinner its more talking – it seems Toriel wants to tell you about every books she's read since the last time you saw her. But eventually even Toriel finds her words failing her, and then you just spend quiet time together in front of the fire. You lie down on your stomach and read a book she recommended. It's not bad.

Halfway you glance up at her. It's really like nothing has changed.

And yet, last night…

Toriel yawns and excuses herself to go and take a shower. Soon she's bustling you off to bed. You don't resist. You're exhausted. In fact, you're starting to nod off.

She takes your hand and helps you, even though you're quite capable of making it to the bedroom yourself. 

You wake up in the middle of the night. She has her arms around you, cuddling you from behind.

“Frisk...” she murmurs against your neck. “…oh my child. My child!”

This is starting to be a bit of a habit.


	2. Chapter 2

Your life with Toriel quickly falls into a routine. You spend your days repairing the cottage while she busies herself baking and doing the endless paperwork her school generates. After a while she stops asking you whether you're really free, if there isn't something you'd rather be doing.

“But you must be missing all your human friends,” she suggests.

They can survive without you for a little while, you say. You want to make sure everything is okay here first. 

It's a white lie. The truth is, you're happy being here, with her. 

So this is how being happy feels. You'd forgotten. You know it can't last forever, by while it lasts...

There's no longer any talk of buying or building a bigger bed for yourself. It just feels natural to sleep in Toriel's. With her arms wrapped around you, you sleep sounder than you have for years.

A few days later you're returning from you car through the forest when you stumble across a child. He's wearing glasses and carrying a tattered notebook easily half the size of him. He seems strangely familiar. Well, Toriel has been showing you photos of her students. He must be one of them.

“Oh,” the boy says, stopping dead when he spots you. He pushes his glasses up and blinks. “Hello? Are... are you a friend of Miss Toriel's?”

Miss Toriel? Definitely a student then. You explain that you're her… hell, what are you exactly?

An old student of hers, you finally decide upon. You're staying with her at the moment to help her around the house.

“Oh,” says the little boy. “I was just on my way to hand in my homework.” He lifts up the notebook. It's pretty tatty. “We had to write a report on a type of monster. I chose the Tsunderplane.”

You tell him he must be a pretty dedicated student.

The little boy shrugs. “Oh, the truth is I wanted to see if Miss Toriel has been baking.” He smiles. “Her pies are delicious, aren't they?”

When you reach the cottage, Toriel comes out and with a cry of delight sweeps the little boy up off his feet. 

“Oh, Jeffrey! It's so nice of you to visit me!”

She puts the flustered child back on his feet and then takes his proffered notebook. She tuts and has a few strict words about taking more care of his possessions, but the frown immediately changes to a smile as she invites him inside for some pie. 

As he sits and eats his pie, you watch the two of them together. Strange pangs of jealousy prickle you, but you push them away. Stupid to be jealous of a little kid! 

But it does remind you of those earlier times, and you envy him the innocence of being a child. After a few minutes of sitting there in silence, listening to Jeffrey breathlessly explain all the research he's done for his report, you realise you're being a third wheel and excuse yourself, saying you have to go pack a few tools away. 

You give them what seems to be a long enough time for a chat before going back. But when you step through the front door, they're still in the middle of a spirited conversation. Toriel is laughing.

“Oh, but I told you! Frisk is a student of mine from when I still lived in the Underground. He's not my...” 

“I see,” says Jeffrey, clearly not believing her. “But he's living here, right?”

“He's just helping around the house. He's very kind, you know. Why, he even calls me 'mom', did you know that?”

“He calls you mom?” A moment's silence. You stop in the living room and listen, not wanting to interrupt them. 

Toriel giggles. “You really thought he was my boyfriend? But why would he ever want to have a silly little old woman like me as a girlfriend? I'm much too old for him!”

“My mom is older than my dad,” says Jeffrey.

“Oh, but that's… Well, and there's the fact that he's a human and I'm a monster.”

“But humans and monsters get married all the time!” Jeffrey sounds exasperated. “Anyway, I think you'd make a good couple.”

“A good couple?” Toriel sighs. “Ah, when you're older I guess you'll understand things a bit...”

“I'm already ten,” Jeffrey protests.

“Oh dear,” says Toriel. “Yes, of course you are. I'm sorry.” Another sigh. “Well, you're right. Frisk would make an excellent partner for anyone. He's kind and helpful and funny and always so cheerful and...” 

Toriel suddenly falls silent. Your need to stay unnoticed fills you with determination. 

But all to no avail. 

Her voice calls out. “Frisk?”

You jump out of your skin, but then you recover and walk straight into the kitchen, acting as though you hadn't heard a thing. You apologise for taking too long and say that you hope they've been having fun catching up. 

Jeffrey nods. “Miss Toriel was telling me about...”

“About us,” says Toriel quickly, heading off disaster. “I mean, you and me, when we lived together… in the Underground.”

Oh, you say, taking a seat.

“Was the Underground really as scary as people say?” asks Jeffrey, breathlessly.

Well yes, you reply, but it was also a really fun place. And you made some wonderful friends.

You glance across at Toriel. She's smiling and hiding a blush by pulling her long ears over her cheeks.

Jeffrey wants to hear all about your adventures in the Underground, but Toriel soon begins to worry that his parents must be missing him and bustles him off with leftover pie wrapped up in brown paper. 

Toriel touches your arm. “Oh Frisk, would you take Jeffrey back through the forest? I'm afraid I have to watch this other pie I've just put in the oven. It's a bit of an experiment and I...”

You tell her it's no problem at all. 

Now toting the huge pie, Jeffrey walks beside you along the now familiar path.

“I know the way, you know,” he says. Then he sighs. “Miss Toriel worries all the time, doesn't she?”

You laugh. She treated you exactly the same when you were a kid, you say.

Jeffrey glances at you. He has an oddly mature expression on his face.

“Being a kid is hard at times, isn't it?”

It sure is.

“But adults have their own problems too, I guess.”

He's got that right.

After shooing away a couple of froggits who stumbled into your path, you soon reach the edge of the forest. 

“I can take it from here,” says Jeffrey.

You nod, stifling a laugh. The kid really does remind you of yourself when you were his age. You tell him it was nice to meet him and he turns to go. But then he turns back. There's a surprisingly cheerful smile on his up-til-now serious face.

“You know, I'm really happy Miss Toriel has cheered up,” he says. 

Cheered up? What does he mean?

He comes back and with a hand cupped over his mouth in the conspiratorial way children have when whispering, he tells you about the strange thing which happened the last time he tried to bring his homework to 'Miss Toriel'.

“I kept knocking on the door,” he explains. “But she didn't answer it. Then I heard a strange sound.” He frowns. “Someone crying. I went around the corner and saw Miss Toriel through the window. She was the one who was crying.” His frown turns into a grin. “But I guess she was just sad about something like a pie coming out wrong. I'm so glad she's happy again!”

And with that, Jeffrey waves goodbye to you and wrestling the huge pie under his arm he disappears down the road.

You stand there and watch him go. Toriel was crying? You don't know if you can imagine what it would be like. The thought horrifies you. 

Isn't the thought of your mother crying one of the worst things in the world?

You return to the cottage. Lunch is ready, laid out on the kitchen table. Toriel brings out a pie for you, a proud look on her face. 

“Would you cut it, my child?”

You take up the knife and cut into it. Ah. Another butterscotch pie. You could tell from the smell.

Her expression is eager. “Won't you try a piece?”

You shrug your shoulders. You take a slice and bite into it.

It's delicious of course, but somehow even more delicious than usual.

“Do you taste something different?” Toriel's eyes are hopeful. 

You frown. Something is a bit different… some extra ingredient?

No, something's missing.

Oh right. There's no spicy tag of cinnamon. 

Toriel claps her hands. “Oh, I'm so glad you noticed! I was thinking back to everything that happened the first day we met, and I remembered how I asked you about your favourite flavours. You said you liked butterscotch more than cinnamon, right? But I ended up putting both in the pie by accident.” She smiles shyly. “You were so polite not to mention it.”

You enjoy the rest of the pie. It's delicious, but maybe… just maybe it could have done with a little bit of cinnamon to balance out the sweetness.

Toriel puts down her fork. “You know, little one, I was also thinking about the other things we talked about when we first met.” She smiles up at the ceiling. “Do you remember ringing me up to tell me something?”

Yes, you say between bites of the pie. You wanted to know if you could call her 'mom'. 

Toriel blushes. “No, no… it was after… after that.”

You swallow. Oh yeah. You told her how pretty you thought her voice was.

Toriel blinks at you, “...and?”

Your face burns… and that you wanted to ask her out on a date.

Toriel chuckles. “You were such a cheeky child,” she says. 

But you weren't joking, you say without thinking.

Her eyes go wide. “Oh?”

No, you say. You've always thought she was… no, she is very beautiful. Her eyes especially.

“My.. my eyes?”

Toriel gets up and in a fluster starts to collect the plates, even the one with the piece of pie you haven't quite finished. 

“You know, my child, it's not very nice to tease an old lady like me..”

You stand up and grab her hand. You're not joking, you say.

Toriel stares at you. Her eyes search your face. 

Embarrassed by your forwardness, you let go. You grab a plate and tell her you'll help her clear the table. You have to get back to work soon, anyway. The garden bed still needs to be cleared of weeds.

“Oh,” says Toriel. She seems relieved. “Oh yes, of course my child. Thank you.”

As soon as you can, you slip away. Your heart is racing. 

Why now, of all times, did she remember all that stuff? 

But you're pleased she now knows that you do find her pretty, that it wasn't all just a joke. It's often worried you, how she puts herself down. 

She really is beautiful. A tall, graceful queen of the monsters.

You throw yourself into your work. Soon, even under the gentle fall sun, you feel hot and tired. Years of weeds lie heaped in a huge pile, the garden bed a desolate wasteland. 

When you duck back inside the cottage, Toriel is nowhere to be seen. There's a note on the table next to a sandwich.

Dear Frisk,  
I hope my absence did not alarm you too much, little one. My phone is out of charge and I didn't want to disturb you while you were working so hard. I've gone into the city to run a few errands. I hope this sandwich will tide you over until I get back. Also, I apologise for the lemonade. It really is a childish drink, isn't it? I keep forgetting you're all grown up. I just thought you might like to drink lemon-AID since you've been such a great HELP around the house!  
I hope you noticed my little joke there! ];)  
See you soon!  
Toriel

You put the note down and grimace. Her puns have only got worse. And she even writes that emoticon on her notes! You pick up the lemonade and drink it down. You don't care that it's a childish drink, it's sweet and refreshing. The sandwich is delicious and it only takes you three bites to finish it. Without Toriel around, you can even get away without chewing each mouthful of food ten times. 

You take a shower and settle down on the new chair Toriel bought for you in the living room. Somehow, it doesn't feel very comfortable. You try out Toriel's armchair instead. It's too big for you, but her unmistakable scent is all over it. You lie back and close your eyes.

Your eyes fly open. Someone's in the kitchen. You hop off the armchair and duck your head through the doorway.

Toriel is putting some things away in the pantry. She turns to you, surprised. 

“Oh, little one! I woke you. I'm sorry.” She smiles. “You looked so happy asleep in my armchair I was hoping I could put all this stuff away before you woke up.”

She's in the middle of making sandwiches. They look delicious. 

Toriel blinks at you. “Oh, I… I thought I might make us a special dinner tonight. Kind of a thank you for all your hard work. And it is Saturday night.” Her eyes turn fragile. “That is… that is if you don't have any other plans. I know how much young people enjoy going out on a Saturday night in the human world.”

You tell her you don't have any plans. The special dinner sounds great. What is she…?

Toriel puts a finger to her smiling lips. “Oh, it's a surprise. Why don't you have a nice walk to stimulate your appetite? It's a beautiful afternoon. I won't be long.”

You spend a good hour wandering the forest. You check your phone. Saturday night. Your friends have invited you out, but you tell them you're busy at home.

Home.

This really is home, isn't it? You ran away from that other place, the place others called your home but which didn't deserve the name, ran away to climb Mt. Ebott. You'd heard the stories, that over the years children had disappeared there. 

You'd wanted to disappear, too.

Before you knew it you found yourself in the Underground and met her. And then for the first time you saw what a real home was like. 

And it frightened you. Her love frightened you 

Love. You'd had no idea what love was until Toriel immersed you in it. 

Was it so strange that you loved her back? 

Love… a child's love for their mother was different from what you felt, now. Back then you loved her with a child's love, but even then there had been something else. And it had only grown stronger.

Running away had just made the feeling grow inside you. And now…

Toriel's voice. Calling your name. You run down the path, just like you used to whenever she called you for dinner.

She's standing in the living room. There's a little hamper on the coffee table. 

“Surprise!” she says. “I thought we might have a picnic. It's very warm tonight, and I heard there's going to be fireworks over the bay. It might be nice to watch them.”

You say it's an excellent idea. Toriel goes to pick up the hamper but you beat her to it. 

She brings a finger to her cheek. “Oh! I forgot something…” She winks at you. “Another surprise.” She ducks into the kitchen and come out hiding something behind her back.

“Let's go,” she says. “You know the place. Remember the little lookout?”

The lookout. It was one of your favourite places. With Mt. Ebott on the left and the bay on the right you used to spend hours just sitting and staring at the landscape. 

You remember the way. The sun is low on the horizon when you reach it. You find a nice clear patch of grass and unroll the picnic blanket. Toriel joins you and you both sit down.

With a playful look on her face she brings out the thing she's been hiding behind her back with a “Tada!”

A bottle? 

“I bought some wine,” she says. She hands you the bottle. “Oh, I don't know very much about alcohol other than that buttercup liqueur Asgore used to drink. But the human in the shop said that this is good.”

You look over the bottle. You don't know that much about wine either, but it sounds good from the write-up on the label. 

“There are some glasses in the hamper,” she says. 

You take them out and Toriel uncorks the bottle using a fang. She catches you staring and grins.

“Oh, just a little trick from my old college days,” she says, pulling the cork off. “Sometimes being a scary monster has its advantages, you know.” 

She pours the wine and hands you a glass. “I just thought it would be nice to share an adult drink together. I guess I must have been really annoying over the past few days, treating you like a child.”

You tell Toriel she hasn't really, and besides, you've enjoyed being spoiled.

Her face turns mock-stern. “It's not a good thing to be spoiled, you know, my child.” Then she grins again. “But it's hard to resist that face.” She reaches out and grabs your cheek and pinches it. You pull away, laughing and rubbing it.

“Shall I make a toast?”

When you nod, she raises her glass and you do the same. “To human and monsters. May they ever be together and never again parted!”

You click glasses. It's a wonderful sentiment, and very appropriate for the queen of the monsters. 

She blushes. “Oh, I don't know about the whole queen thing. I prefer to think of myself as just an ordinary old teacher.”

To take a sip. The wine is delicious.

Toriel smiles. “The human in the shop was right. This is excellent! Not too tart, with just the right amount of sweetness.”

She takes another sip then sets the glass down and unpacks the hamper. There's all sorts of delicious things in there. 

Toriel brings out a little can and hands it to you. “You know, I had no idea that humans ate snails as well!”

You read the label. Escargot. Well, you say with a frown, some humans do. 

Toriel laughs. “You don't have to try them just to please me. I remember when I gave you that slice of snail pie.” She takes the can back and her face grows thoughtful. “I suppose there's still a lot this old lady can learn about humans, after all.”

You snort. 

“What's the matter?”

You're not an old lady, you say.

Toriel blinks. “Oh, but I am… I mean, compared to you.”

You laugh. If that's the way you decide who's old, then the world is full of old people.

“I suppose you're right,” says Toriel. 

Anyway, does age really matter all that much? If two people are fond of each other…

Toriel looks at you, an odd expression on her face. 

Uh oh. You hope you didn't just reveal you were listening to her and Jeffrey's conversation.

But then Toriel beams. She reaches over and touches your hand. “No, it doesn't matter, does it? Just like being a human and a monster doesn't matter. All those friends you made in the Underground. You're such wonderful proof that monsters and humans can be friends.”

You sit and drink, just enjoying the quiet moment together. The sun sinks lower, the world as clear and still as glass. A wonderful peace settles over you.

And still Toriel has her hand on yours. It feels like the most normal thing in the world.

Toriel freshens your glass. She's still nursing her first one.

“This is so nice,” she says as she lies back. Silence, then a gentle laugh.

What's the matter? 

“Oh, I was just thinking about something that Jeffrey said while you were outside,” says Toriel. “He asked me whether you were my boyfriend. Can you believe that?”

Her eyes, glittering with playfulness, meet yours. What the hell are you supposed to say to that? 

You say nothing and Toriel's eyes suddenly dim. Has the light dropped with the setting sun? No, the whole world is glowing red and purple, achingly beautiful. 

But it's nothing compared to the beauty of the woman at your side.

Toriel drops her gaze. “I know, right? What a silly thing to say. An old lady like me...”

\---- -----  
*Laugh about the darn things kids say…  
*Tell her you'd be happy to have her as our girlfriend...  
\---- -----

You squeeze her hand. If she was your girlfriend, you tell her, you'd be the happiest guy in the world.

Toriel stares at you for a moment then bursts out laughing. “Oh Frisk. What a lovely thing to say! But you know, you really don't need to flatter me...”

No. You're not going to let Toriel laugh it off this time. It all comes spilling out at once, as though if you don't tell her everything now you'll never, ever get the chance again. You're not flattering her, you say. You've always found her attractive, and the last few days have made you realise you really would love for her to be your girlfriend.

Your voice fades away. Toriel's mouth drops open, but she says nothing. She moves to take a sip of wine but stops, staring at the trembling glass as though wondering what it is. Then she puts it down on the grass and looks at you. 

Her violet eyes are huge, fragile, like flakes of garnet. She looks like she might crack apart at any moment. 

“Do you.. do you really mean that?” she whispers.

You nod.

Toriel pulls her hand off yours and turns away. She stares out across the landscape at the sun boiling away on the horizon. The whole world is the colour of melting copper. 

“Frisk,” she says at last. “I...I don't want to imply that your feelings are not important, but perhaps... perhaps you're just lonely. You just broke up with your girlfriend and...”

You know what she's trying to do. She's trying to talk you out of your confession, give you a chance to back out. But you've gone too far to back out now, risked too much. Your need for her to take your feelings seriously fills you with determination. 

You tell her you've felt this way about her for a very long time. Your face grows hot as you explain how so much of the tension between the two of you while you were still living together was caused by your jealousy, by your confusion about your growing feelings for her. You ran away, hoping that it would solve things, but it only made your feelings stronger. Your voice breaking, the confession becomes an unstoppable torrent. 

It's not just about your feelings, you tell her. You know how she feels about you, how she whispers your name late at night. You know she's not just pretending or playing a game. She's never been the sort of person to make light of another's feelings. You know she feels the same way about you.

You take her hands in yours. “You like me too, don't you mom?”

Toriel looks as though you just slapped her. She opens her mouth, about to protest that you're wrong, that you're mistaken… but then, suddenly, as though all energy has drained from her she slumps her shoulders and puts her face in her hands.

“Yes,” she says after a long silence. “Yes, perhaps it is true, Frisk. Perhaps I do feel that way about you.” She lifts up her face. Her eyes are puffy, red with tears. “When you came back, when I saw you standing there, so tall and… and grown up and handsome, I'll admit it, my heart skipped a beat. It wasn't just seeing you again after so long. It was...” She exhales. “But that's just it. Perhaps it's not you who's lonely. It's me. Leading you on. Staring at you with goo-goo eyes all the time. Flirting.” Her cheeks flush with shame. “I'm… I'm so sorry, my child. I should have known better. I should have been better. I'm a terrible mother!”

Toriel begins to cry. You throw your arms around her. She presses her face against your shoulder

She's a wonderful mother, you tell her, stroking her hair as your shirt collar grows wet with her tears. Your mother, who you love very much. But she's also a woman, a woman who… 

Damn. No escaping it now.

...a woman who you've fallen in love with.

Toriel lifts her face. Her eyes are flooding. 

“You're... you're in love with me?” she whispers.

\---- -----  
*Kiss Toriel.  
*Are you crazy? Toriel is not for kissing!  
\---- -----

Words seem so stupid now. Words can be false, be misunderstood. Words, empty sounds ruining this still, beautiful evening. No, no need for words. 

Toriel's eyes go wide as you bring your face close to hers. 

Please, don't pull away. Please, don't… please...

She doesn't. Your lips brush hers. She gasps, her breath warm against your mouth. 

You draw Toriel closer. Her lips press warm against yours for a brief moment, but then she turns her face away. Her body is stiff, so stiff, like you're embracing a statue.

No. No, this is wrong. You've taken things too far. You idiot! So stupid… so…

Toriel's lips tremble and her body begins to shiver. Then all at once the stiffness drops away and with a cry she melts into your arms.

“Oh Frisk,” she breathes. “Oh, my child!”

She brings her mouth to yours and her lips part. You feel moisture and warmth, taste her beautiful fragrant breath. 

“Oh Frisk, I-” You steal her words away with a kiss. This time she kisses you back. Her arms slip around you and she pulls you closer. 

Toriel's ample breasts press against you. So soft, and behind them a heartbeat… strong and rapid. Her heart is racing. You feel your own trying to beat it. 

The tip of your tongue brushes against Toriel's mouth. Trembling, the tip of her tongue shyly slips out to meet yours. 

So this is what Toriel tastes like, the flavour behind that sweetly scented breath you used to smell whenever she kissed you goodnight, whenever she kissed you goodbye…

Toriel clings to you as your tongues slide together. Then with a moan she opens her lips wider and accepts your tongue deeper. Even with a tongue much bigger than yours and two razor-sharp fangs, somehow kissing her isn't awkward at all. 

At last, Toriel pulls away with a gasp. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes shining, a mixture of joy and confusion on her face. She places her chin on your shoulder, kisses your ear. 

“Oh Frisk,” she whispers. “Is this.. is this really happening?”

It must be, you tell her. You've never had such a wonderful dream.

“A dream,” she says. Then she blushes. “Oh yes… far more beautiful than any dream.”

You kiss her again, longer this time, gently, cupping her chin and cherishing her with every movement of your lips and tongue. Toriel doesn't want the kiss to end and it's you who finally breaks it, falling back on the picnic blanket, your lips moist, your heart pumping. 

Suddenly, a crack and a whistling sound. Startled, the two of you look out at the glittering star rising over the city.

It rises higher, hovers for a second suspended in the now dark sky then explodes into a shower of whistling red sparks.

The fireworks. You forgot all about them. 

“Mom?”

Toriel smiles at you and shakes her head. She kisses you again. It's no chaste kiss, the tap of her tongue against your lips promising more. 

“I don't care about those silly fireworks,” she says. “But I think, somehow, they're a sign.”

A sign?

“Of things to come,” she says. Her smile is both shy and sultry. 

Red and green and blue floods the world. Toriel, her eyes glued to yours, takes one of the straps of her robe and slips it off her shoulder. Then she does the same for the other, her timid but eager smile never leaving her lips.

You reach out for her. Toriel's eyes go wide and her face flushes. 

“Do… do you wish to help me, my child?”

Overhead, the fireworks continue to explode. The bare skin of Toriel's pale shoulder and neck is painted in red, now purple, now green as you help her draw her robe down off her arms. Her collar slips lower, but teasingly it stops with only the lacy top of her bra visible. Toriel's breasts are big, her cleavage deep. 

You exhale in admiration. She's so beautiful.

Toriel's blush deepens, refusing to meet your eyes. She stares down at her chest.

“You… you don't think they're a bit too big?”

They're perfect, you say.

Toriel's smile is a mixture of embarrassment and playfulness. “Oh, you boys and your obsession with breasts.” She sits forward, the hem trapped beneath her knees as she wiggles her robe down her body. You watch in a daze as first her bra-clad breasts pop free, then the soft, pale expanse of her tummy. Her eyes follow your gaze and she pouts.

“Oh dear. I really have let myself go, haven't I?”

You love her tummy, you tell her. It's perfect on her.

Toriel rolls her eyes at our words, but her smile deepens. She stands up, her dress bunched around her hips now. The sight breaks your trance. 

Despite what you said before, it really does feel like a dream now. Are the fireworks still exploding about you, or is the world really this colour? You can't tell. Your eyes are focussed on Toriel's beautiful body alone as it's revealed by degrees. 

She wriggles her hips and pouts. “Can you help me, darling? I… just.. can't seem to… get these off…!”

Your hands tremble as you reach up and take hold of the bunched-up robe and draw it down over her wide hips. You try to be as gentle as possible, but you as soon as the robe is past her hips you yank it down eagerly.

Toriel gasps. “Oh, you impatient child!” 

You let go of her robe. Free of the obstacle of her hips, it slips down her legs and she steps out of it. Your eyes feast on Toriel's body, now dressed only in her underwear. Her panties match her bra, white and lacy, different from the ones which have always haunted your fantasies. 

Toriel catches you staring and her face takes on that familiar motherly fierceness. “And just what are you staring, my child? I know I'm a little chubby, but I am a mom, after all. It's hard to stay slim when you have children to look after, especially one as mischievous as you.” 

There's no denying her thickness, but it only adds to her attractiveness. She has a gentle curvy belly that rests a little over the waistband of her panties and her hips seem even wider now out of her robes. Those robes were always good at hiding the shape of her body, you realise. 

You tell her you adore the ways she looks and slip your arms around her. Toriel gasps and tries to pull away, but you don't let her. Her struggles are feeble, all an act.

You whisper to her that she looks especially amazing in that underwear. But it's so different from what she usually wears.

She squirms away from you and looks at you sternly. “Have you been peeping in my underwear drawer, you wicked child?”

No, you protest. But when you were younger… well, sometimes she left the door to her bedroom ajar and you couldn't help but peep.

Toriel sighs. “Well, I suppose boys are naturally inquisitive about such things. I forgive you.” She kisses your neck. “I'm glad you like these… I wanted to look beautiful for you.” 

She'll always be beautiful to you, you tell her.

Toriel slips her arms around you and kisses you. This time there's no charade of being embarrassed, of not wanting this. Her kiss is heavy, hot, and as she crushes you against her you're reminded of how much bigger than you she is.

But then, she'll always be bigger than you.

You pull away, gasping, and Toriel wipes her mouth, a smug expression on her moist lips. 

“Did your human girlfriend ever kiss you like that, I wonder?” 

You flush, and start to babble something in response, but Toriel isn't listening. She takes hold of your shoulders and gently pushes you onto your back on the picnic blanket. The reflection of the fireworks flash in her hungry violet eyes as she leans over you and starts to undo the buttons of your shirt. 

“It's not fair that I'm almost naked and you've still got your shirt and pants on,” she murmurs. She finds undoing the buttons difficult, fumbling due her eagerness, and you help her. 

“These big hands of mine,” she says with a sigh. “Oh, why must human things always be so small?” 

She leaves you to finish unbuttoning your shirt and starts to unbuckle your belt. She finds it much easier and soon has it off.

Her hands fall between your legs. Of course, by now you're fully erect. God, even a statue would be after what Toriel has been doing to you. She arches her eyebrows and makes an appreciative sound. 

“So not everything about humans is small!” 

She helps you up and as you pull your shirt off she has you wiggle your hips to aid her taking your pants down. Soon your clothing is lying together with her robes on the grass.

“Well, all that will need washing tomorrow,” says Toriel with a sigh. “But I think the extra work will be worth it.” 

You sit up on your elbows and stare down at her as she leans over the lower half of your body where your underwear is lewdly peaked. Toriel dips her head and gives the material a brief kiss. 

Your hardness jerks in your underwear. Toriel pulls away in mock alarm. She glances up at you, that sultry, mischievous look on her face again. 

“Oh, please don't worry, my child,” she says with a chuckle. “I'm not a tease like those silly young girls.” She reaches behind her back, undoes the clasp of her bra and slips the cups off. At long last her breasts pop free.

They're even bigger than you imagined in all your adolescent fantasies. Easily a double-handful each, they're conquered by their own weight and maybe not as perky as they one were, but their heaviness only adds to the charm of her figure. Toriel sighs and hefts them in cupped hands. Her nipples are large and dark, fully erect.

“These silly things,” she says, frowning. “It used to be such a pain finding bras big enough in the Underground, but here on the surface I've found a lot of shops catering to the… what's the word?” She smiles in embarrassment. “Oh yes. The 'plus-sized' woman. I needed to make a few alterations so the pants would fit, though.”

She pivots around and presents her butt with its little tufted tail to you. You notice what she means: the waistband divides in two to produce a little slot for her tail to poke out of.

But your eyes are drawn straight away to the roundness of her big butt. Despite her weight, her flesh is firm, her pale skin flawless.

You begin to get up, eager to embrace her from behind and take those breasts in your hands, to press yourself up against that amazing butt. But Toriel places a hand on your chest.

“So eager!” she says with a laugh. She pushes you back and kneels down on the picnic blanket before you. “Please be patient, my child. I want to spoil you first.”

You watch in utter disbelief as she slips her thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and peels them down. Your erection springs free and Toriel gasps. She stares at it, her eyes wide, before bringing a trembling hand to it and slipping her fingers around the shaft. 

The pleasure that springs up along your spine is immediate. Her hands are so warm, so firm yet gentle. As she starts to stroke you, you wonder in amazement at how they're the same hands which used to hold yours, the same hands which packed your lunch-boxes and pressed against your back during her body-enveloping hugs, the same fingers which pinched your cheeks and mended the holes in your shirts...

Toriel's hands are skilled with this task too, and your eyes are glued to the motion of them stroking you up and down. But soon your eyes are drawn to hers. She's gazing up at you, grinning, her violet eyes sparkling. 

“Do you like that, small one?” 

Still unable to speak, all you can do is nod. 

Toriel's heavy breasts swing with a delicious movement as she continues to caress you. You feel that excruciatingly tension grow and lie back and close your eyes, letting the pleasure sweep through you. Oh god, you're close as it is. Any more and you'll... 

Toriel slips her hand from your erection. In a daze, you open your eyes and sit up. Her face is flushed, her eyes shining with excitement.

“Well, perhaps that's enough of that. I don't want you finishing up so soon.” She moves forward, her boobs swaying, her nipples brushing against your thighs and with a sultry grin she squeezes your hardness into the glorious softness of the ravine between her breasts and slips her lips over the head. 

Engulfed in the hot, wet paradise of her mouth you cry out. Her large tongue wraps around the head and she draws you completely into her. Your mind reels at the incredible sensations spilling through your body and you grip the blanket beneath you with clawed hands. Toriel's incredible ministrations are almost too much to bear. 

Panting, you look down and meet her violet eyes. They're hooded in erotic delight as she lewdly sucks you in and out of her mouth while rubbing the incredible velvet softnesses of her breasts against your shaft. 

No, no, no, you gasp, squirming and tossing your head. No, no...! 

Toriel, confused, draws you out of her mouth. 

“Oh! Am I hurting you, little one?” 

No, you say, your voice little more than a hoarse whisper. You just don't want to come on your own. You want to make her feel good, too. 

Toriel's eyes go wide and her face flushes. “W-what are you saying, my child? Surely you don't...”

You explain to her what you want to do. Her flush deepens and in a fluster she makes a weak protest. But when you sit up and take hold of her hips to help her into the position, she doesn't resist. With a little awkward manoeuvring, you manage to get her to straddle you so that her pantied crotch is directly over your face. 

“A-are you really sure you…. OH!”

With your palms clasped around her wide hips, your fingers splayed across the generous expanse of her butt, you pull her down until your lips are flush with the crotch of her panties. You can feel a blistering heat beneath them and your senses are overcome with the incredible spicy scent of her female excitement. Unable to resist, you press your tongue against the material, meeting heat and moisture. Toriel is already soaked, and you taste the delicious savouriness of her juices for the first time. 

Her butt shudders beneath your hands and she squirms as though trying to escape your eager tongue, but you hold her in place. Toriel begins to pant, her breath hot and wet against your hardness as you lick at her and then suddenly her lips slip around you again and you're swallowed back up into the incredible bliss of her mouth.

But the material of her underwear still blocks your tongue from the most precious centre of Toriel's body, so you decide to even things up. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slowly pull them down, more to tease yourself than to tease her. She gasps around your shaft as you bare her magnificent butt. Her wobbling cheeks get a thorough kissing as you struggle to get her panties down farther. But for all her previous coyness, Toriel quickly lifts one leg and helps you pull her soaking underwear off and you leave them bunched around a thick thigh as you gaze at the beauty that's been revealed. 

Toriel's intimate lips are pink and puffy, the slit swollen with her excitement. You part her with your fingers and place your tongue flush against her most sensitive spot, eliciting a loud gasp. Without the barrier of her panties, her flavour is far more intense, a delicious sticky savouriness that you can't get enough of. While she wiggles her butt and sucks on you avidly, you baste every part of her with your saliva. 

Soon Toriel pops you out of her mouth with a gasp and pulls away from your lapping tongue.

“No!” she cries, climbing off you and turning around. “I want to finish together with you.” She presses her hungry mouth against yours, delving her tongue deep inside your mouth as she takes hold of your saliva-slick hardness. You cry out against her moist lips when you feel the sensitive head meet an incredible heat and softness, and then you're totally enveloped in a feeling even more exquisitely pleasurable than the inside of her mouth was. 

Toriel grunts and rolls her hips forward and you slip further into her, right up to the hilt. You feel her delightful heaviness upon you, smothering you with sensuality, her velvet-soft tummy squashed against your own, her big boobs brushing against your chest. Toriel breaks the kiss and grimaces as she lifts herself off you just far enough that she can ease herself back down upon you with excruciating slowness. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth drops open in an expression of utter ecstasy as you slide deep back inside her. 

The sight of her pleasure sets fire to your own. Your hands find her hips and you guide her while she lifts herself off you again. This time you lift your own hips and slide up into her and Toriel cries out. Your fingers curve around the incredible curve of her butt, holding her in place as you thrust up into her, her earlier tantalising undulations no longer enough for you. Toriel, panting, matches your movements, plunging herself down as you pierce up into her. You quickly find the right rhythm to share your pleasure and you grit your teeth at the powerful waves of delight spreading through you with every penetration. 

“Oh my child, my child!” Toriel pants above you, her huge breasts swaying and her ears flapping as you bring your bodies together. 

You feel yourself getting dangerously close, but your need to reach the pinnacle of pleasure together with your beloved Toriel fills you with determination. Somehow, you find the will to slow your thrusts into her gorgeously overripe body. Your crotch is awash with her sticky juices and the sound of your bodies slapping together is unbelievably lewd.

You had every intention of rolling Toriel over and taking her from behind, wanting to see that amazing ass laid out before you as you thrust yourself over and over into her up to the hilt, but she won't let you. She pulls your hands from her butt, entwining her fingers in yours and pushes them down against the blanket. You try to slip from under her, but her heaviness holds you in place as she continues to take her pleasure from you. Her eyes are closed and her face is alive with lewdness, her mouth open wide, her tongue lolling, her lips wet with the saliva of her drooling gasps of ecstasy. You shake your head in disbelief at the erotic sight of her abandonment and feel yourself edging dangerously close, but Toriel's lustful humping of your slick erection shows no sign of stopping. 

Between gasps you tell her you're about to come, that she has to slow down. Toriel doesn't hear you, but she feels it when your balls lift up and your erection takes on that iron hardness which comes moments before ejaculation. 

Her eyes flash open, her heavy lashes wet with tears, and she cries out “No! Not inside me!” but it's too late. The first hot spurt of your broiling semen jets up into her and she gasps. You cry out at the incredible sense of release, the pleasure sparking from your toes up to the top of your head. But instead of climbing off you as you fear, Toriel instead grinds her hips against yours as you continue to fill her with your seed. Your body shivers and your mouth opens to permit your agonised moans, but Toriel's mouth blocks it. She covers you, her huge boobs squashed between the two of you, her slippery tongue plunging into your gasping mouth.

“Oh mom, oh mom!” you moan as her tongue darts everywhere, as though she was trying to devour you. 

“Oh my child,” she moans. “Oh my child! Oh! Oh! OH!” 

Her big body begins to shudder and she throws back her head as an ecstatic moan pours forth from deep within her.

You manage to pull our hands free and grab back onto that amazing ass of hers as she continues to come. Her eager bleats fill you with determination and you refuse to let yourself slip free of her until every single spurt of your burning ejaculation has filled your mom's womb to overflowing. You thrust yourself over and over up into her, struggling to keep her in position until at last you feel the final wave of your climax crash over you. Exhausted, your hands slip from her and she collapses on top of you with a hoarse, shuddering moan. 

Toriel's face is dripping with sweat and you taste salt as she kisses your bruised mouth over and over.

“Oh Frisk, my child, my child,” she murmurs, still moving her hips. “Oh, you did so well!”

Finally you pop free of her and a torrent of your mixed juices spill out across your crotch. Toriel remains lying on you and despite her weight and the difficulty you have in breathing, you're In ecstasy, enveloped in pure love. Toriel's hot swollen sex presses down against your own and she rubs against you. You cry out, oversensitive, and with a grin she stops.

“Oh, I'm sorry, my child,” she whispers. “I've.. I've always been a little… overenthusiastic.”

You gasp out something she can't make out and she rolls off you, pulling you on top of her still hot and sweat-slick body. You suck in a welcome lungful of air, but it's just as soon squeezed out of you when she crushes you to her. 

With your head nestled between her boobs, you nuzzle your face into the side of one overgenerous globe, feeling as though you're lying on the most comfortable bed imaginable. Toriel strokes your bare body all the while, letting her big fingers slide along your side and over the curve of your hips and butt. You kiss her skin and taste salt. 

“Oh my child, my darling Frisk,” she murmurs against your hair. 

You say nothing but just cuddle yourself into her. Those nights, so long ago, when you would sit in her lap, listening to a story from one of her hundreds of books, drowsy with the warmth of the fireplace, your stomach full of delicious pie, slowly falling asleep with her beautiful voice in your ears, her exquisite fragrance surrounding you. In this moment now you're back there, held by the one you love more than anything else in the world, the woman you adore so much it hurts your heart to think about her, your beloved Toriel. 

You're well on your way to sleep when Toriel sits up with you still nestled in her lap. You murmur a sleepy protest and she pats your bare butt like a mother sending her child to sleep. 

“Shh,” she murmurs. “Sleep, little one. You've been a very busy boy.”

She draws you closer, nuzzles her muzzle against your cheek, one fluffy ear pressed against your neck.

“You really have grown, haven't you?” she murmurs. 

It's been so long since she held you in her lap. But even though you've grown up, she can still manage it. Somehow, it doesn't feel awkward at all, even with the two of you naked.

The fireworks are long over. Night has fallen, the sky a brilliant tapestry of star points. You remember evenings here with Toriel, when you were still a boy, when she would tell you the monster names of all the constellations, the names the monsters had forgotten while in exile below the earth, but which they'd recorded in a book she'd been reading.

“Beautiful, aren't they?” breathes Toriel, the naked Toriel of now holding you in her lap. 

“Mom,” you begin. With your pleasure now a gentle ebb, your heart is suddenly full of a million things you want to say to her.

But she just shakes her head. “Shhh,” she murmurs. “It's okay. We have forever to talk. I'm just so happy. I want to share this moment here, with you, forever.”

You sit there, together, just enjoying each other closeness. Toriel's heartbeat, slower now, regular but loud and happy in her big chest, echoes in your ears. She starts to sing, a song you haven't heard in a long time, a song she used to sing to you when you climbed into bed with her, on those awful nights when the nightmares would come for you, those nightmares of being lost in a field of golden flowers, where every second one had a leering, hate-filled face, a face so much like your own. The song would always scare them away and you'd sleep soundly at her side. And now you do the same, enveloped in the fragrant hug of the one who raised you and stole your heart. 

\-------------------

You wake a while later. The world is bobbing up and down. 

She's carrying you. The forest is dark, the trees shadows against the starlight once your eyes finally adjust.

“Ssh little one,” she says. “I'm just taking you home.”

Aren't you too heavy?

“You'll never be too heavy for me, my child.”

Soon you're being dressed in your pyjamas and lowered into bed. The bed is cool and you mutter in annoyance, but then you feel the mattress sink as Toriel gets in beside you. She wraps her arms around you from behind and kisses your neck.

“Sleep, darling,” she murmurs. “Sleep. Be a good boy and sleep. Tomorrow is another day.”

Her voice sweetly lulling you, sleep once again overcomes you.

\------------------------------------

You wake to find yourself alone. For a moment you lie there, your mind blank, the amnesia of sleep still hanging over you Then with a flash the events of last night come spilling back. With a sigh you grab hold of the pillow next to yours. There's a depression in it where she laid her head, and the pillow and her side of the bed are impregnated with her scent. 

You want to get up, to go find her, but her fragrance keeps you there, the scent sending joy flowing through your heart as you squeeze the pillow against your chest.

Toriel. Mom. Last night you held her in your arms, kissed her for the first time, for the first time made love to her, the woman you've spent so many years pining for without ever really realising it. 

Your heart races. You can't lay still any longer. You have to see her.

You leap out of bed and make for the kitchen. She always wakes up early and goes to the kitchen to get started with the day's baking. How many times have you woken up to the homely clatter of pots and pans, her cheerful humming, the smell of sweet butterscotch filling the house?

As soon as you enter the living room you know something's wrong. The house is silent. There's no happy sound of cooking and the air is flat, lacking that tell-tale sweetness of freshly-baked pie.

Your heart skips. Has… has something happened to her? Has some monster come in here and…?

You race into the kitchen to find Toriel sitting at the table. For a moment you feel relief, but then you see she's bent over, her face in her hands. 

Toriel lifts her face. Her beautiful violet eyes are red and puffy. On her lips she wears a frown, a frown you've very seldom seen, so different from the scolding frown of a disappointed but indulgent mother, different even from the frown she wore when you threw those angry words in her face during that argument so many years ago. 

It's the frown of a Toriel in deep pain, and the sight pierces you straight through the heart. 

You step toward her, but she shakes her head and lifts a palm to halt you. 

“Please, Frisk. Would you… would you please sit down? We… we have to talk.”

We have to talk. Hateful words which fill you with a sudden panic. In a daze you nod. Toriel gestures towards your chair, pulled away from the table and turned toward her. She's obviously been sitting there a long time, waiting for you to wake up. 

As you sit you begin to ask her what's wrong, but she interrupts you.

“Frisk... please. Please just let me speak.” Her eyes are desperate and your question dies unspoken on your lips. 

“My child,” she begins. “Frisk. Last night… last night I made a terrible mistake.”

You stare at her, slack-jawed. A mistake? How can she say that?

Toriel raises a hand before you can protest. “Please, Frisk. This… this is already hard for me. I… I need to apologise to you.” She presses her hand against her brow, covering her eyes. “No, that's not it. I need to beg you… to beg you to forgive me.”

Why? Your voice is hoarse, little more than a whisper. Why does she need forgiveness?

Toriel takes her hand away from her face and finally looks you in the eye. Her gaze is brittle, her lips trembling. “I… I took advantage of you, Frisk. Took advantage of your kindness, and betrayed my role as your mother.”

But you're not her son, you say. Wait, no… that came out wrong. What you mean is why should it be a problem, since you're not related?

“Even though you're not my biological child, I raised you,” she says. Her tone is different, the one she uses whenever she lectures you. After the sweet urgency of her voice last night the sound dismays you. “It's a mother's responsibility to protect her children, not to… seduce them.” 

Her voice breaks. She reaches across the table suddenly, takes hold of your hands which up until now have laid flat against the table. “But it's not your fault, Frisk! Please, please don't think that. I'm the one who's to blame. These past few days, having you living with me, sleeping in the same bed. I suppose I was enjoying myself, playing some silly game of pretend, acting like we were a couple. Of course I gave you the wrong idea.” Tears well in her eyes. “...and then I let things get out of control. I can't make what happened unhappen, as much as I might want to. But it can never happen again.” Her eyes flash, suddenly fierce. “I won't allow it!”

You pull your hands away, squeeze them together under the table. Even though Toriel has been holding them, they're shivering, cold as ice. Your heart feels as though it's stopped beating, a pit of aching pain deep in your chest. Your blood lies still, turned to slush. Is that why you're shivering?

Lips trembling, you raise your eyes to look at Toriel. Her face is a mask of pity, pity for you. At the sight your anger, checked until now by your fear and confusion, flares up. You struggle to speak, hating the fact that your voice is breaking as the terrible pain wracking you spills out in a torrent of words.

How can she sit there so calmly and say all those things? How can she call the beautiful thing that happened between you a terrible mistake? She didn't take advantage of you, you were willing, more than willing. You love each other, isn't that all that really matters? 

Toriel interrupts you. “Frisk, I... I know you think you love me, but those feelings… they're just physical. It's easy to get confused. You're still young, and-”

The full extent of your anger erupts at last and you jump to your feet, shouting that you're not a child. You're an adult who knows how he feels. You love her and you know she loves you. Why can't she just accept that?

“No,” says Toriel and the simple words stops you dead mid-explosion. Her face is stony, the stare in her eyes unavoidable. “No, Frisk. I'm sorry. I really am. But last night, last night was just a mistake. I let things get out of control. But even when it was happening I knew it was wrong. The truth is… Frisk, the truth is my love for you is only that of a mother for her child. I can't… I don't love you any other way.”

Toriel's words send you reeling as though she's struck you. You grab onto your chair, your knees suddenly weak.

“Liar,” you whisper.

Toriel's eyes narrow, her mouth falling into a harsh line. “What did you just say?”

“Liar,” you say again, louder this time. She knows that last night was real, that your feelings for each other are real. She's just a coward… and a liar.

Toriel slowly gets to her feet. Her face is blank, although the hands she grips the table with are trembling. 

“Get out,” she whispers.

You stare at her dumbly.

Toriel's face contorts with sudden, blistering rage. “I said get out of my home!”

“Wait,” you cry. “Mom, I-”

Her lips twist in disgust. “I'm not your mother!”

The words are a slap in the face. You take a step toward her, panic gripping you, but Toriel shakes her head. She lifts a hand and a flame is born there, a flame reflecting the fire in her narrowed eyes.

“Go,” she says. “Leave this place, Frisk, and this time do not come back.”

You open your mouth, take another step toward her. Toriel's hand twists into a claw and fire spills from her across the table. You throw an arm across your face at the sudden blistering heat and stagger back. 

Toriel strides forward. There's fire in both her hands now and its grown into spitting pillars of flame. 

“Go,” she repeats.

Toriel drives you back against the door. It falls open and you stagger onto the front porch. The heat is a wall now, pushing you back.

“Mom, please!”

Tears fill her eyes. “DON'T CALL ME THAT!” 

Living fire leaps from Toriel hands. The front garden bursts into flame. Heat presses down on you and you smell burning. Your top is starting to smoke. Tears in your eyes, you turn and flee.

You stumble to your car. You feel in the pockets of your pyjamas. The keys are there. 

Despite it all, you want to laugh. Toriel thought of everything. 

You look back. Smoke rises from the forest, no longer the happy wisp of baking from the cottage's chimney, but black smoke, black and hateful billowing up in thick clouds and staining the sky. 

You press the button on the key and your car's headlights flicker. You reach for the door handle. 

\---- -----  
*Get in the car.  
*Go back and brave the flames.  
\---- -----

You drop the handle. No, not like this. This isn't how things are supposed to end. You turn and go back into the forest. 

A ring of fire surrounds the cottage, now. There's no way to get past it. 

Fire. Just like the first time, when Toriel tried to stop you from leaving the Ruins. But back then she was afraid of losing you, had wanted you to stay with her. And now… now she's trying to keep you out, to push you away.

You move closer. The flames are no empty threat. The heat hits you like a wave. You take another step forward and the heat grows even more intense. 

You saw the tears in her eyes. The sadness, the pity, the regret, even the rage. They were all a mask. She was in pain, is still in pain, a pain you caused, a pain only you can cure. 

You have no choice. The thought of her suffering fills you with determination. You throw your arm over your eyes and plunge into the flames. 

Your clothes smoke. Your skin blisters. Your hair crisps and the stench of it burning fills your nostrils. Agony on all sides grips you but you press onward. 

But it quickly grows too much for you and your knees fold beneath you, throwing you forward onto the smouldering grass. You writhe there, agonised, and have just enough energy to gasp out a single word.

“Mom!”

The heat drops away all at once and the flames vanish with it. You claw at the ashen ground, trying to lift yourself up, but pain wracks you and fall back forward.

Someone is there to catch you. Strong hands grab you beneath your arms, lift you up, push you against a soft, yielding body.

“Frisk! Frisk!” 

Her voice, breaking in panicked anguish. The voice of the love of your life. Toriel's voice. 

“My child! My child! Oh, what have I done? What have I done?”

“Mom?” you croak, your throat feeling like it's still on fire.

A cry of relief. “I'm here, my child! Mom is here. You're alright now. You're going to be alright!”

“Mom,” you murmur. The harshness of the pain is dulled by her voice, by the feeling of being close to her, her arms cradling you. “I love you mom.”

“I love you too, Frisk,” she weeps, tears wetting your hair as she presses her lips again and again against the top of your head. “Oh my child, my beloved child, I love you too!”

Only then do you let yourself fall unconscious.

\----------------------------------------

You hear soothing words, a voice familiar to you. Something sweet is being pressed up against your lips. 

“Eat some more darling. You'll feel much better.”

You obediently open your mouth and immediately taste the warm unmistakeable sweetness of butterscotch. 

And wait, is that the gentle tang of cinnamon as well?

Suddenly, you don't feel so bad any more. Your previous world was of flames and heat and pain and then her voice came, and with it the softness of her embrace soothing the hideous pain. But now the pain is ebbing away. Warmth and sweetness fill you to overflowing.

You open your eyes. You're lying in her bed. Toriel is there. She has a spoon and is scooping up another spoon-full of the mashed-up pie in the bowl in her other hand. 

She meets your eyes and bursts immediately into tears. 

“Oh my darling child!” Still holding the spoon and bowl she throws her arms around your neck and kisses you. You're still groggy and a little sore but you hug her back. Surrounded by her fragrance you bury your face in her ample breasts, murmuring over and over again into her chest: mom, mom, mom…

“Sssh, I'm here, child.”

When she finally pulls away, you see the regret on her face. “Oh my darling. I… I've been an utter fool. I...”

You shake your head. She doesn't need to say anything. All of that is behind you. And you feel much better now, thanks to her pie. 

Toriel's expression changes to one of thankful relief. She scoops up another spoon-full of pie and brings it to your lips. You eagerly eat it. It's a strange feeling, being fed, but you can't help but enjoy being spoiled. Better make the most of it…

Soon you're full and you feel as though all your hit points have been fully restored. Toriel's baking truly is magical. You sigh and sit up, a thousand things wanting to burst out of you. But Toriel reaches over and places a finger on your lips.

“No, darling. No need for any words.” Her smile is tender, her eyes glittering as she takes hold of your hand and places it on her chest. Her heart is beating, rapidly. She looks across at you and raises an eyebrow. 

You lean across and pull down the corner of the bed-sheet and pat the mattress. Toriel, her smile suddenly shy, glances at you and when you nod she slips herself in beside you. 

“Mom,” you murmur as you slip your arms around her curvaceous form and lean up to kiss her on the lips. Toriel blushes, but pulls you closer as she does.

“Darling, do you… do you really think it's still okay to call me mom if we...” She lowers her face until all you can see of her eyes are her long thick lashes. “… if we're going to be together like this?”

You laugh. What should you call her, then? Miss Toriel? Tori? 

Toriel laughs. “Neither of those work, do they? Like me calling you… Frisk. It sounds like I'm angry at you, doesn't it?” She kisses you on the forehead. “I wonder what kind of name we can come up with.”

You say it doesn't matter. She's only ever had one name that you've known her by, and you hope she doesn't mind if you continue to use it.

She sighs. “I suppose it's alright. I am used to being called mom, after all.” She narrows her eyes at you. “Do you remember the first time you called me mom?”

You say that you do. 

“And… and do you remember that other saucy name you called me?”

You laugh. You were an interesting child, weren't you? But you meant everything you said. 

Toriel cuddles closer up to you. “Really, my child? Do you really think I'm a… what was it? A 'hot goat-momma'?”

You lift her chin and kiss her on the lips. Of course she is. The hottest.

Toriel slips her tongue between your lips and the kiss grows hot. You pull away at last, breathless. 

“I don't know whether we should be doing this,” says Toriel. “You're still healing. Don't you hurt anywhere?”

Just one place, you say, taking her hand and place it between your legs where you're already rock-hard.

“Oh,” she murmurs. “I see. You're very swollen there, aren't you?” She licks her lips. “Well, don't worry. Mom will kiss it all better for you.”

And with a lewd smile she slips her head beneath the sheets. 

Good end


End file.
